


If You Don't Mean It

by KennyMoonFic



Category: Spider-Man - Fandom, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Crush, Begging, Bodily Fluids, Boys Kissing, Cock Slapping, Cock Slut, Come Sharing, Come Swallowing, Consensual Underage Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Embarrassment, Eventual Happy Ending, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Forbidden Love, Frottage, Gay, Gay Sex, Insecurity, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Mentor/Protégé, Mild Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Peter is Old Enough to be Miles’ Dad, Possessive Behavior, Post-Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), Public Sex, Questioning, Rimming, Sappy, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Teen Angst, Teen/Adult Relationship, Temptation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 32
Words: 95,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KennyMoonFic/pseuds/KennyMoonFic
Summary: After the collider is destroyed and he gets permanently trapped in a new dimension, Peter B. Parker finally has something to live for in mentoring 16-year-old Miles Morales. But can Miles balance school, family, being an awkwardly-normal teen, having a crush on his mentor, and being Spider-Man? No...no, he cannot.
Relationships: Miles Morales & Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales & Peter Benjamin Parker, Miles Morales & Peter Parker, Miles Morales/Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales/Peter Benjamin Parker, Miles Morales/Peter Parker, Miles/Peter
Comments: 313
Kudos: 278





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Underage/adult sexual relationship ahead. If that's not your thing, turn back while you can. If it is your thing, you're in the right place. Stick with me and we'll get there. Please leave me some encouragement if there's anyone else out there who likes this stuff. I love incorporating feedback and suggestions in the story, so tell me what you want to see and I'll make it happen!
> 
> I'm going to hell for this. See ya there!

Miles stared at the blank school notebook in front of him, wondering if he fixated on the same spot for long enough if his eyes could somehow bore holes through the lined paper. He sighed, scratching his name on the top line for about the twentieth time before erasing it in mounting frustration.  
  
He was alone in his dorm, and the light, anxious tapping of his foot against the floor beneath his desk was the only sound in the room. It was Friday night, and his roommate Ganke was home for the weekend, just like Miles probably should be but wasn’t. Miles told his parents he had a lot of homework to catch up on, which wasn’t a lie. But more truthfully, he just needed to be alone.  
  
He idly thumbed through the heaping tower of a book that was “Elementary Quantum Physics: Thirteenth Edition” before slamming his forehead on the desk in exasperation. This was going nowhere. “Ouch!” his reaction to his self-inflicted pain was delayed, his reflexes and reaction time dulled from the mind-numbing assignment mocking him from the painfully blank page before him. He slammed the book shut in defeat. “Stupid book. Even stupider homework.”  
  
“Everyone knows ‘stupider’ isn’t even a real word, Miles.”  
  
The teenaged boy nearly toppled out of his chair at the intruding voice, saved only by his hands sticking themselves to the desk in front of him as he began to fall.  
  
“What the _hell_ , man?” Miles frowned as he watched Peter B. Parker slink gracelessly in through the window, wearing a trench coat awkwardly juxtaposed against sweats.  
  
“Anyway you really should keep this window locked,” Peter quipped, completely ignoring Miles' reaction. “What if I was a kidnapper? You’d be fresh for the taking holed up in here alone.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure a kidnapper isn’t gonna announce their entrance by correcting my grammar,” Miles had his arms crossed against his chest defensively. “Anyway I got spidey senses, don’t I? And I’m not even a kid, I’m 16!” The words sounded a lot less cool out loud than they did in his head. Peter laughed.  
  
“Alright well, human trafficker, then,” Peter shrugged. Miles threw his pencil at Peter’s head, who caught it by shooting out a quick strand of webbing to grab it. “And your spidey senses didn’t alert you to the predator who just climbed through your window. Spider-Man 101, Miles. You failed, keep up buddy.” If Miles had another pencil he’d throw that one, too. He settled for shooting a web to cover Peter’s blabbering mouth.  
  
Peter was peeling at the sticky strands and wiping them on the front of his shirt as he sat down on the bottom bunk bed, hitting the back of his head as he did so.  
  
“So?” said Miles, half irritated at the intrusion of his alone time and half relieved to have a distraction from his homework. “Is that it? You just dropped by the neighborhood to lecture me about human trafficking?” After a long pause, he met Peter’s eyes and they both smirked. Miles busted out laughing.  
  
They settled into their familiar banter for the evening as Miles pulled up a game on his laptop he’d been telling Peter about last week and Peter scrolled through his phone.  
  
“So...I heard Aunt May got you set up with some kinda job?”  
  
Peter sighed. “Damnit, May.” He pressed his knuckles in between his eyes. “Whatever she told you is probably not the whole story, or at least not the way I see it. Look, I get it. She wants me to get back on my feet, start bringing in my own money, get my own place, start picking up my dirty underwear off the bathroom floor..."  
  
Miles scrunched up his nose, pausing his game.  
  
"...But look. I'm not sure if I can do it."  
  
Miles laughed, "about the dirty underwear?"  
  
"Miles, I'm serious. There's this gig she set up, some kind of Spider-Man...thing. Something about posthumous material. They want more Spider-Man material: comics, action figures, a memoir. They're calling it all, ‘The Nostalgia Series' or something. She can get me a cut for overseeing the designs or whatever. Signing off on some papers."  
  
Miles tried to hide his surprise. "Well that's _good_ , dude! What's the problem? She has me set up with all that stuff already, toys and comics. She has an account for me so my parents don't see the money I'm pulling in."  
  
"I don't know, I just...." he looked Miles directly in the eyes, and Miles saw something there he couldn't read. Disappointment, maybe, or guilt. "It's not my money, you know? I'm not him. That's never gonna be me."  
  
Miles felt awkward, not really knowing what to say to comfort the older Spider-Man, and looked away. "Didn't you have a franchise back in your dimension? Movies or underwear or whatever?"  
  
Peter laughed a bitterly, still staring at Miles. "I'm not really good with money, Miles. Anyway, it's not like I kept my money in the Interdimensional Bank of the Universe where I can access it from whatever plane of existence I'm currently on."  
  
"That's a thing?!"  
  
 _"No,_ it's not a thing, Miles. And even if it was...the money dried up a long time ago."  
  
Miles wished he could find the right words or reassuring gesture, but he felt helpless. Nothing he said or did would make a difference, anyway. He was painfully aware of how unequipped he was as a 16 year old to handle adult problems. He settled for lifting his hand off his lap and hovering it awkwardly above Peter's knee for 10 seconds before pulling it back and wiping the sweat onto his shirt. "Sorry," he mumbled. "About...you know, the money stuff."  
  
"Yeah, thanks buddy.”  
  
"I know it doesn't mean much coming from me, but I think you should do it. Take the money. I mean, if it makes you feel better, you can use some of it to pay back Aunt May. She wants to see you get your life together, Peter. She wants—“  
  
"It doesn't MATTER what Aunt May, or anybody else WANTS!" Peter snapped, slamming his fist on the desk. He looked into Miles' eyes again, the pain reflected in them mirroring Peter's own gaze.  
  
Miles looked away, his bottom lip trembling. He bit it hard to still it and squeezed his eyes shut tight to stop them from stinging.  
  
“Hey, I’m sorry kid,” Peter sighed. “Miles, look at me,” his voice was soft and cautious. Miles just shook his head, feeling stupid and childish for letting his feelings get hurt. “Please Miles. Sometimes I forget you’re just a...you’re not a...”  
  
“That I’m just a kid,” Miles finished his sentence.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
That hurt Miles more than anything. Just a kid. Peter wasn’t “just an adult”. He was a friend, a mentor, a big brother. Miles would do anything for Peter’s approval. If he was “just a kid, then he couldn’t be—“ he stopped that train of thought in its tracks.

* * *

  
“Which one are you again, the wizard?” Peter mumbled through a mouthful of chips. He idly watched Miles clicking away at his keyboard in a frantic rhythm, their earlier conversation behind them.  
  
“I already told you, I'm this one. The dark enchantress! And she's _not_ a wizard, she's a mage. Check out my skill tree," Miles looked sideways at the older man. "Peter?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, right," Peter sight up a little straighter in his chair, oblivious to the strand of drool hanging down his chin.  
  
"Hey man, are you falling asleep already?" Miles groaned, even though it was nearing 2 AM.  
  
“Yeah, look Miles. Can I crash here tonight? I’m pretty tired.” Peter crumbled up the empty bag of chips and tossed it toward the trash can, missing by several feet. He made no further attempts to clean up his mess.  
  
“You’re lucky Ganke’s home,” Miles answered, shutting his laptop. “And you’re on bottom,” he quickly added, gesturing at the lower bunk bed.  
  
“What? C’mon man, you know I like to be on top!” Miles’ cheeks flushed as he suddenly became preoccupied with a loose thread on his shirt.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Miles lay awake staring at the top bunk, feeling a general sense of anxiety but not able to place it. Maybe it was that endlessly blank page in his assignment notebook, or something else. The feeling of things being peaceful and quiet is unsettling when your life revolves around seeking out danger. Things had been quiet for a while now, which was a sense of pride for Miles as he came into his own as the newest Spider-Man over the last 2 years.  
  
But it was also why Miles liked being alone.  
  
He couldn’t settle into a normal teenage life, the kind that revolved around friends and parties and school. Not when it was only a matter of time before he’d have to leave it all behind again. Being Spider-Man was a lonely existence, but he’d grown to find comfort in the solitude. It gave him time to think and dream and to focus on his passions, his art.  
  
And there was Peter.  
  
Over the last couple years, he had become not only something of a mentor for Miles, but a friend. The only one who really knew Miles, who could comfort his fears and push his buttons better than anyone. Miles didn’t care that Peter was old enough to be his dad. He wasn’t his dad. Everything his dad was, Peter wasn’t. And that was the whole point.  
  
When Peter had first come to Miles’ dimension, their parting words were those of two souls who knew they wouldn’t cross paths again in this life, but whose lives were made that much better for the those fleeting moments together. Bittersweet. But after Miles had destroyed the Collider, sending his friends back to their respective worlds, something happened that wasn’t supposed to happen.  
  
Peter came back.  
  
He hadn’t made it through the portal in time. Or rather, he’d stayed behind unbeknownst to his companions. According to Peter, in a last-second decision even HE hadn’t known he would make, he swung out of view. Waited. Watched. He needed to know Miles was safe.  
  
Peter said it’s not that he didn’t trust Miles to finish it, but he couldn’t leave him if something went wrong. Sure, he knew if he stayed in this dimension, he’d glitch out of existence sooner than later, but there was nothing to go back to that wasn't worth the sacrifice. Mary Jane had moved on, remarried and had the family she'd always wanted. Aunt May was gone. Spider-Man had been pushed out years ago in favor of younger, fitter, cooler heroes that were making the headlines these days in his version of New York. Where did he fit into that picture? He was already a dead man walking.  
  
And then something happened that _really_ wasn't supposed to happen. He survived.  
  
They didn't fully understand the science behind it, but when the Collider was destroyed and Peter remained behind in Miles' dimension, Peter's particles or energy or whatever rejoined him in the one he was at. There was no way to get back to his dimension, and so his existence there was no longer. He stopped glitching.  
  
That was just about 2 years ago, and while Peter hadn't gotten back on his feet, he had a sense of purpose for the first time in a long time. Miles could see it in the way Peter beamed proudly when Miles mastered a new move he'd been practicing, and in the way he squeezed Miles' shoulder in reassurance when he was scared. Peter had something to keep going for.  
  
He was living with Aunt May, who had a real soft spot for the older copy of her dead nephew. She'd even taken a special interest in Miles, allowing the two Spider-Men to take over the underground base she had built with her Peter. During late-night training sessions, she would bring down a tray of food for them. She stayed up late mending holes in their suits.  
  
A loud snore snapped Miles out of his thoughts and back to reality. He could hear Peter rolling over on the mattress above him, and saw an arm draped over the side of the bed, hanging limply above. And that comforted him enough to fall asleep.

* * *

  
The top bunk was empty when Miles woke up the next morning, which gave him a pang of disappointment that Peter had left without saying goodbye. He deliriously headed for the bathroom to shower and wake up, even though he knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he finished his school paper.  
  
He slowly pushed open the bathroom door, and saw a pair of feet with pants hanging around the ankles. His tired brain took way too long to register what was going on as his eyes traveled up Peter’s half-naked body standing in front of the mirror. Peter groaned deeply, his head dropping back while his hand worked lazily.  
  
Miles’ stomach was doing somersaults. Should he close the door and risk drawing attention to himself? Or just walk out and leave the door open, which would definitely draw attention? Shit, he settled on awkwardly standing in the doorway for way too long while he battled internally.  
  
“Ah fuck!” Peter shouted, suddenly seeing him standing there. Miles slammed the door. Smooth.  
  
When Peter came out a while later, Miles pretended to be asleep. His heart was pounding out of his chest in embarrassment.  
  
“Uh, buddy?” Miles felt the bed shift as the older man ducked to sit on the edge of the bottom bunk where Miles was pretend-sleeping. The teen squeezed his eyes shut tight in his pillow, freezing up as he gripped it tightly. His stomach was doing more somersaults. They stayed that way for a while, neither one breaking the silence. His spidey senses could feel Peter's eyes on him.  
  
After a while, Miles really did fall back to sleep. When he woke up, Peter was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Miles doubled down on his homework assignment and finished most of it by the late afternoon. His stomach was so empty it was groaning at him. He texted Peter.

  
_Wanna get lunch?_   
  
_It's 3:00_   
  
_Is that a no, or...?_   
  
_Don't be stupid. Pizza place on 7th._

  
Miles packed a few things in his bag and lingered over the drawer where he kept his Spider-Man suit. It had been a while since he'd needed it, but he still liked to get in the habit of bringing it with him in case of emergency. Peter said the most important thing was to always be prepared. He stuffed it in the bottom of his backpack and set out to meet his friend.  
  
When he got to the pizza place, Peter was already sitting at their usual table in the corner, working on what appeared to be his third slice by the looks of the discarded crusts on his plate.  
  
"Were you planning on saving any for me, or..."  
  
Peter offered up a slice to him, waving it around to gesture for Miles to sit. He didn’t have to tell him twice; the younger Spider-Man preoccupied himself with stuffing his face, the two of them sitting in silence as they ate.  
  
Miles had already decided he wouldn’t bring up the awkward scene from this morning. As long as Peter was equally willing to pretend it hadn’t happened, he could stop feeling so weird about it. Even so, he kept replaying the scene in his mind. Peter’s sweatpants dropped around his ankles in a heap on the floor. One hand pulling up his t-shirt to show his belly and hips. The other hand around his...”  
  
The teen forced the image out of his mind. It’s just hormones, he reassured himself about the intruding thoughts. Teenager stuff.  
  
“Can I ask you something?” Peter broke the silence first, which made Miles uneasy. He nodded. “Do you think we should get one with pepperoni?”  
  
Things were easier between them.  
  
“I took your advice,” Peter sipped loudly at his soda.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Miles raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Uh huh. About the money.” Miles’ brow softened in surprise. “I talked to Aunt May and I’m gonna sign the merch deal.”  
  
“Hey that’s awesome!” Miles’ excitement was genuine as he grinned at the news.  
  
“It’s not gonna be, y’know, a lot at first,” Peter added, “but it’s enough to get myself a place.”  
  
“So what, you gonna settle down and move to the suburbs now?” Miles’ teased.  
  
“Well I was thinking I could be closer to you.”  
  
“Yeah?” Miles’ ears felt hot.  
  
“I was looking at some apartments in Brooklyn. I mean, it’s not gonna be in the nicest neighborhood. I just thought—“ he cleared his throat, “if I were closer to you we could get serious about your training and stuff. And I could...keep an eye on you.”  
  
“‘Cause I’m just a kid.”  
  
“No, I didn’t mean—“ Peter’s voice softened. “Don’t be like that. I just worry, okay?”  
  
A year ago Miles would have thought he was full of shit, but he knew better now. It was no secret that Peter had become protective over Miles, and the older Spider-Man kept close tabs on his protege. It made Miles feel good knowing Peter had his back. He trusted Peter and felt safest when they were together. Sure, he felt safe with his dad, too. But Peter understood the risks of being Spider-Man better than anyone, and Miles felt like they could face anything together.  
  
Peter continued, “I mean, if you don't want me to, then forget about it. I don’t care either way.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“I’m sure you’ve got other things to worry about than spending time with bargain bin Spider-Man,” he grumbled.  
  
“Why you gotta be like that?” Miles was raising his voice now. “Can’t you ever just accept that you’re good enough?” People were looking at them now.  
  
"I wasn't good enough for MJ," he said quietly, in an awkward contrast to Miles' shouting. His self-loathing was really getting on Miles' nerves. It made him look so childish, and Miles felt uneasy having to be the mature one all the time.  
  
"Who _cares_ about MJ?" Miles lowered his voice now too.  
  
"Don't you dare—"  
  
"I mean it, Peter. She wasn't there for you when you needed her, right? When you hit rock bottom, where was she? Yeah, that's what I thought." Miles furrowed his brow in frustration.  
  
"You're too young to understand, Miles."  
  
"Too young...right. Sorry, forgot I was 'just a kid'," he rolled his eyes.  
  
The two Spider-Men finished their pizza in strained silence, looking everywhere but each other. Miles hated when they had these arguments. It really hurt when the person he cared about most treated him like a child. At 16, he had a lot more life experience than anyone his age. Had it been so long that Peter forgot what it was like to be a teenager?  
  
"Well I do want that," Miles added after several minutes of uneasy tension. "I do want you to be...close to me."  
  
"Okay."  
  
They finished their drinks and gathered their stuff before heading outside.  
  
Saturday evenings were usually spent training in the gym or in their base at Aunt May’s house in Queens. Miles would usually tell his parents he was meeting up with some school friends, and he’d take the bus with Peter. Some nights he’d sleep on Aunt May’s couch or Peter would crash at his dorm if Ganke was home for the weekend, which he usually was.  
  
It was November, which means it was freezing cold and overcast in the city. Miles pulled his hood up and zipped his hoodie up to his chin as they boarded the bus to Queens. Miles always reminded Peter that the subway would be quicker, and Peter would always say “quicker but not safer,” and Miles would roll his eyes. For a superhero, Peter went out of his way a lot to avoid trouble. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” he’d sigh.  
  
Peter didn’t really suit up these days unless Miles was with him. He said it’s because people would be uncomfortable with him taking the place of dead Spider-Man, “I refuse to be a cheap knockoff.” Even so, he took Miles in as his sidekick. Peter was really good at making Miles feel like his equal when it came to being Spider-Man. The rest of the time, he wasn’t so sure.

* * *

  
“That’s it, steady,” Peter cautiously encouraged. Miles was practicing the art of staying invisible. Disappearing was easy, effortless even. He had mastered it over the summer when Peter trained with him every day over school break. _Staying_ invisible was a whole different story. Any distractions and he would lose his focus. Deflecting or dealing attacks, or even shooting his webs would break his concentration. It just wasn’t second nature yet.  
  
Miles was getting frustrated, having tried unsuccessfully about 30 times to stay invisible, but every time Peter would throw an attack at him, pinch and poke him, or even just taunt him, he failed. It seemed like any form of contact was enough to break his focus.  
  
“It’s not working, Peter,” Miles groaned. He was so frustrated he was flickering in and out of view.  
  
“So what, you’re just gonna give up and be no better than all the other heroes out there who, in case you didn’t notice, don’t have invisibility? This is your chance to be better than them. Better than me. I know you have it in you. Just look at you, Miles. You’re incredible.”  
  
Miles was grateful to be invisible when his cheeks flushed, “I dunno, I just—.”  
  
“I wanna try something different,” Peter interrupted. “Stay invisible and take my hands,” Peter held his arms out toward the spot where Miles was last seen standing. He turned his palms upward and waited.  
  
Miles’ hands were sweaty and a little shaky. Probably just from all the training, he thought. He reached his hands toward Peter’s and hesitated, his smaller hands hovering over them shakily. “Um, I don’t think—“  
  
“Here, just take them. Trust me.”  
  
Miles slowly lowered his hands, resting his palms lightly on top of Peter’s. Peter curled his fingers around Miles’ so they were holding hands, his grip firm and confident. Miles let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.  
  
“There, see?” He squeezed them a little tighter. “Still invisible.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Miles was dizzy. The contact was almost intimate, and he felt embarrassed. He wondered if Peter could feel his clammy, trembling hands, but thanked whatever higher power for his invisibility in that moment.  
  
"Stay with me, now," Peter squeezed really hard this time, the pain nearly causing Miles to break his focus, but he was ready this time.  
  
"Look buddy, you're doing it! Okay now turn around,” Peter let go, wiping his hands on his shirt.  
  
"I'm not sure if--"  
  
"Just turn around. Stop making it weird."  
  
Miles did feel weird, and his stomach felt like it was in his chest, but he complied. After a few moments of uneasy silence he found his voice, “Okay, I um...I turned around."  
  
Miles figured Peter was going to attack him from behind, maybe hit him in the back to knock him off balance, or try to surprise him. What Peter actually did was take a step forward, pressing himself against the back of Miles' body, like a hug from behind.  
  
"Find my hands. I can't see you," Peter instructed, holding his hands out where Miles could see them in front of him. It was a little hard to maneuver from the way they were standing, but he grabbed on to Peter's hands. They felt a little sweaty, but that must have been from him sweating on them a moment before. He cringed at the thought.  
  
Peter slid his grip down, settling on Miles' wrists. His thumbs rested on the boy's web shooters. "You've gotta focus on something. Concentrate on something you can see or feel to stay grounded. You can feel me, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay let's go with that. Stay grounded, stay with me. What do you feel?"  
  
"This is dumb, Peter," Miles said, his voice a little scratchy.  
  
"Shut up. Just stay focused! What do you feel?"  
  
"Um, your hands are on my wrists."  
  
Peter activated the web shooters, sending strands shooting at the wall. Miles was still invisible. "What else?"  
  
"Your um...your chest is pressing on my back."  
  
He pressed the shooters again. Miles was still invisible. "You're doing it. What else?"  
  
Miles closed his eyes, his body feeling tingly. "My neck....your breath is on the back of my neck."  
  
Another web.  
  
"Your arms are around my waist."  
  
Web.  
  
"Your hips—" Miles' voice was shaky.  
  
Peter suddenly released his grip on the younger boy, taking a step back. "There you go Miles, you did it! You're still invisible," his mentor sounded proud in that moment. "You're still...wow. You really did it."

The pride in Peter's voice made Miles feel good. He craved that feeling, seeking it out as much and as often as he could get it.

”I think let’s call it a night.”

Miles crashed on Aunt May's couch that night. It was a long time before he got any sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Aunt May’s couch had become a safe and familiar place for Miles. The hum of the space heater and the ticking of an old grandfather clock were comforting sounds that lulled him to sleep on many Saturday nights.  
  
But not on this particular night.  
  
Miles sat up on the couch, pulling the scratchy wool blanket up around his chin. It was a cold November. Aunt May’s house didn’t have central heating downstairs, but the space heater was usually enough to get him through the night. Tonight he was too cold and too wired to sleep.  
  
He thought back to the awkward bathroom encounter this morning, cringing internally at himself. He just couldn’t get the scene out of his head. He had never see Peter completely naked before—only in his underwear when they were slipping into their Spider-Man suits. Even in a moment of exposed vulnerability, Peter still looked powerful. Peter’s hands were so different from Miles’ slender, long-fingered ones. Big, rough, masculine. His dick was big too.  
  
 _Where did that come from?_ Miles mentally slapped himself for the betrayal of his teenage hormones.  
  
He thought about Peter taking his hands in his own earlier that night during training, grounding Miles to his surroundings. The same hands that were wrapped around Peter’s dick earlier that morning. _Fuck, why did he even think that?_ Definitely hormones.  
  
Miles was sexually-innocent, inexperienced. He was spending the prime years of his teens learning to fight crime and finding his place as a superhero instead of dating and kissing girls. It was no surprise that his lifestyle left no time for relationships.  
  
Peter always said he was lucky to have found Mary Jane before becoming Spider-Man, or he’d be a 40-year-old-virgin.  
  
Miles didn’t think about girls that much. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in having a girlfriend, he just didn’t know any girls that interested him. There were girls in his classes—some he was friends with—but most were a distraction. He wasn't willing to give up his time with Peter for any of them.  
  
Miles turned the tv on quietly, bundled up on Aunt May’s couch. Thinking about relationships and sex suddenly made him painfully aware of just how lonely and how desperate he felt. It made his whole body ache with how badly he wanted to be touched by anyone, aching for physical contact. Even the most innocent touch, like Peter’s hands around his wrists, left his body on fire, needing more. Yeah, definitely just hormones.  
  
He didn’t even have anyone he could ask for advice. Peter failed with the only woman he’d ever been with, and he’d rather fall off the face of the earth than talk to his dad about girls. He missed his Uncle Aaron.  
  
He fell asleep in a cold sweat.

* * *

  
On Sunday morning, Miles woke up on Aunt May's couch with a stiff neck, feeling completely unrested. He’d sat awake for hours before falling asleep sitting upright, his neck hanging limply on his shoulder.  
  
Peter came downstairs in sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking sweaty. He was was rubbing his eyes and yawning, looking a lot like how Miles felt.

They ate breakfast in sleepy silence. Aunt May was out shopping and running errands, and Miles’ parents weren’t expecting him home until lunch. They were alone.  
  
“I slept on my neck weird,” Miles groaned, wincing as he rubbed at his neck and shoulder.  
  
Peter stood up and walked over to the counter to refill his cereal. “I slept on my whole body weird,” the older Spider-Man shrugged. Peter set his bowl down on the counter and Miles could hear the sound of milk pouring, “I don’t know how you even sleep on that lumpy old couch.”  
  
“Trade ya.”  
  
“You could just sleep in my room tonight. It’s been really cold down here.”  
  
“Y-yeah?” Miles wasn’t sure if that implied sleeping in the same bed, but it still made his ears feel hot.  
  
“My bed is really warm," he pulled at his sweaty t-shirt. "Anyway, Aunt May’s not gonna be back til tomorrow night. She’s visiting her friend upstate.”  
  
“Oh, um...I’ve gotta go see my parents today.”  
  
“Oh, right.” Miles wasn’t sure but he thought he could hear something like disappointment in Peter’s voice.  
  
“Maybe I should head home and get a little more sleep, anyway,” Miles rubbed at his aching neck. For some reason he felt kind of disappointed, himself. He didn’t really want to think about the reasons why, but when Peter was gone he felt vulnerable. Exposed to the dangers of the outside world.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“I mean...if you want me to...maybe I could —“  
  
“No it’s, um...do you want to come back after dinner? I thought we could do some more training. I think you’re really, really close to figuring out this invisibility stuff. I think we made a real breakthrough last night.”  
  
Miles nodded, but then visibly winced at the pain in his neck from the sudden movement. He rubbed at it weakly, the pain stopping his wandering mind from recalling the night before.  
  
Peter set his bowl down across the table from Miles and walked over to where he was eating, standing behind him. Miles froze.  
  
He brushed Miles’ hand away, replacing it with his larger, rougher pair, and Miles was thankful that Peter couldn’t see his eyes flutter closed. The older man said nothing as he kneaded at the muscle and rubbed it soothingly, and Miles allowed his head to hang forward limply. Rough fingers lingered softly at the nape of his neck, stroking the skin almost teasingly. "Feel good?" Peter's gruff voice in his ear sent a soft moan to his lips before he even realized it was there. As ashamed as he felt, Peter didn't seem to notice. He trailed his fingers upward along Miles' neck, finding soft curls before winding their way through them. He gingerly stroked Miles' hair, circling his fingers in an achingly-slow massage.  
  
Miles felt vulnerable in Peter’s grasp, like he couldn’t control his own body when those rough hands were working on him. His body was betraying him in ways he didn’t understand. As good as it felt, he just wanted Peter to stop before he lost himself to the feeling.

Peter took a step closer; Miles could feel it even with his eyes closed. He could feel Peter's breath on the back of his neck, and his mind flashed back to the night before when Peter's body was pressed against his smaller frame. Miles was aching to be touched, so much that he thought Peter's fingers in his hair could be enough to send him over the edge.  
  
His phone ringing snapped him out of his trance as his dad’s face popped on the screen.  
  
“I better take this,” Miles groaned, leaning away from Peter's grasp and internally cursing his body's reactions.  
  
His parents were expecting him back. He’d told them he had one of his classmates sleeping over in his dorm last night for video games. His dad still liked to keep close tabs on him, but he’d gotten smarter about covering up his late-night Spider-Man excursions. It wasn’t exactly hard to do when he lived away from his parents during the week, but he still had to show his face at home every now and then. As long as he kept his grades up, his dad stayed off his case.  
  
Peter walked Miles to the bus stop. When they got there, Peter handed over the backpack he’d been carrying for him. “Gonna miss me?” teased Peter, shielding his eyes from the late morning sun.  
  
“Only if you want me to,” Miles teased back, but it gave him a weird lump in his throat when he said it. He wished he hadn’t.  
  
Peter must have been pretending not to hear him. “You’re still coming back later, right? Just text me when you’re a few stops away. Don’t talk to strangers. Or kidnappers.” Miles swung his backpack over his shoulder and boarded the bus.  
  
The ride back to Brooklyn was crowded and noisy. Miles put in his headphones and took a seat toward the back, placing his backpack on the aisle seat to distance himself from the other passengers. He pulled his hood up over his head.  
  
All he could think about was getting back to Peter. To be together again. That feeling was brewing within him a while, weeks or even months. He wasn't sure. When it came to the surface it made his stomach tie in knots. He had never acknowledged it before, and it scared him to feel it. To allow it there at all. He took a deep breath and turned his music louder to try and drown it out.  
  
But it was still there. _Shit._  
  
What did it it mean anyway, that he was gay? Because he wasn’t. Nope. Nuh-uh. It had to be some teenage hormonal _thing_ , but it was definitely normal. It _had_ to be normal because he was already as far from normal as a teenager could be. There had to be something normal about him. Anything. But he couldn’t be gay. Just thinking the word made his heart sink.  
  
But still, for the rest of the ride all he could think about was seeing Peter’s face again.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Miles was happy to see his parents. He liked being doted on by his mom, and eating real food, and listening to stories from his dad about work. Sometimes he picked up on tips he could report back to Peter about criminal activity around the city. It gave him some satisfaction when then next time he talked to his dad, he’d hear him recall with almost a sense of admiration how Spider-Man had saved the day.

“So by the time we got back to the station, we thought we were gonna have to call it a night. We were coming up empty-handed, yeah? So when we got back to the station we see Spider-Man. Well, there were two of them again. And they’d already recovered the stolen briefcase and turned it in. By the time I turned around to thank them, they were already gone.”

After dinner, Miles helped clear the table with his dad. Things felt easy between them in that moment, laughing and talking about old times. Almost like his dad was seeing him as less of a kid and more of an equal. They sat at the little table in the kitchen, sipping coffee. Miles hated coffee, but it gave him a reason to keep his dad talking for a bit longer. His mom had fallen asleep on the couch after a long day at the hospital.

Miles had practiced this conversation in his head on the bus ride home that morning. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words weren't coming now. He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to make his voice sound deeper, more mature. "Um, dad..."

"What is it, Miles? You alright?" His dad's rough expression softened a bit.

"It's about a...um..." he bit his lip, as if to stop the words from coming out. Earlier he thought he’d sooner fall off the face of the earth than ask his dad for relationship advice. But now it seemed like the earth was falling out from under him, so it felt like the only option left.

"A girl?" his dad's face seemed to light up just then.

"Yeah. It's about a girl."

"You know, I had my share of experience with the ladies when I was your age. You've come to the right place."

Miles rolled his eyes. Why was this so awkward? He’d already survived “the talk” with his dad when he was 13, but this was more personal. “She's...kind of...she's older," his heart was racing. His dad's brow furrowed. He'd said the wrong thing. "Not like, that much though. She's in 12th grade." He watched his dad's face carefully for his reaction. His face softened again before a grin slowly spread across his face.

"Wow, what a stud! An older woman, eh?" he reached across the table, gently punching Miles on the arm. “How'd you pull that off?"

"Well, she doesn't know," Miles looked around the familiar kitchen, anywhere but his dad's face. "...Yet," he added, feeling his cheeks flush.

"Ah, now I see. Look, Miles. The first thing you need to know about women is you've got to make the first move. Older, younger, it doesn't matter. The man's got to take charge."

“But what if she doesn’t like...guys like me?”

“Why wouldn’t she, son? You’ve got a lot to offer. And if it doesn’t work out, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you to figure it out.”

“I’m just not sure if she likes younger guys. If she thinks I’m just a kid.”

“Then you’ve got to show her you’re a man. Do something nice for her, like buy her flowers. Girls still like flowers, right?”

Miles laughed. “Dad, that’s old school.”

“Women want to be wooed, Miles. Tell her she has beautiful eyes. Write that one down.”

He listened to some of his dad's stories from his high school days, but he wasn’t sure how any of this was going to help him with Peter. Because the truth was so much worse than he could ever tell his dad. He needed to find a way to tell Peter how he felt. The problem was, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to.

* * *

It was after 9 PM when Miles hopped off the bus, backpack slung over his hoodie and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked up and spotted Peter, and for the first time something was undeniably different since his realization on the bus this morning. He felt nervous. And that scared him, because he definitely wasn’t gay. He just had some kind of teenage hormone _thing_ that was making him have weird thoughts about his much older best friend and mentor. Who happened to be a man.

Back at the house, Peter and Miles went down to their underground base and suited up for another training session. Miles had to keep wiping his palms onto his hoodie, which were sweating like crazy despite the cold night. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. It’s not like anything had changed between them as far as Peter knew. But there was still a feeling of eager anticipation twisting Miles’ stomach in knots, like something was going to happen between them that would change things.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that.

Peter had been right, Miles _had_ made a breakthrough in his training. He was able to stay invisible for longer stretches of time, and so far he could stay that way when Peter jumped out at him, shouted, or taunted him.

It felt good to have something he was better at than Peter. Something to show he wasn’t just a kid, something that put him at an advantage. He knew it made Peter proud to see him improving and growing as Spider-Man and he couldn’t let him down. He had to get this right.

“You’ve got that part down. So if Green Goblin ever jumps out at you and just stands there shouting, you’re all set. Now I'm going to touch you and see if you can take it.” Miles’ head knew there was no suggestion behind the words, but he couldn't stop his body from sending a rush of blood below his waist. He could feel the material of his suit stretching tightly around his dick, which was growing harder by the moment. He _had_ to stay invisible as though his life depended on it. If Peter saw him like this...

He had to focus.

“If you can catch me,” quipped Miles.

Peter advanced on him by following his spidey senses, shooting webs and grabbing at the air where he thought Miles was hiding. He was fast, but Miles was even faster. He stayed a step ahead, climbing the walls, running and ducking from Peter. It was like a game of tag except Miles had to focus all his energy on not only keeping away from Peter, but staying invisible.

And it was working. He was invisible. He was doing it. If he could get his dick to calm down, that would be a bonus.

“Okay...okay...” Peter panted, clearly not in his best shape. “You can come out now. You won.”

But he couldn’t turn back, not with the pressing matter of his dick tenting his suit, the spandex stretching out in the most unforgiving way. “Umm,” Miles was tired too, but he had to stall him, “one more round?”

“Yeah, right,” Peter scoffed. “Let’s call it a night. I think I pulled a hamstring.”

“But—“ Miles protested weakly. He tried to think about something else. _Cold shower...cold shower...cold shower. Peter in the shower. Damnit._

“You ever think that if you stay invisible too long, you’ll get stuck like that?”

 _I’m counting on it_ , Miles thought.

Miles reached for his backpack on the chair in the corner and pulled out his hoodie.

“Woah, enough with the freaky poltergeist crap,” Peter tried to snatch the floating hoodie out of the air, but Miles was too quick and slipped it on over his Spider-Man suit, conveniently covering up his arousal. At that moment, he reappeared.

* * *

Back at the house, the two were playing video games in Peter’s room like they did on typical weekend nights. It was a school night, but Miles knew exactly what time he’d need to wake up and catch the bus to Brooklyn to arrive for the 8:05 homeroom bell.

His dad’s voice was playing in Miles’ head as they settled into a sleepy silence. It was 11 PM, and the two of them were on the bed. Miles was laying on his belly and facing the foot of the bed with his feet toward the pillows, where Peter was propped up against the headboard.

 _The man's got to take charge._ But he wasn’t the man, he was an inexperienced teenager. _You’ve got to show her you’re a man._

Could he make the first move? It’s not like Peter was going to—he wasn’t gay. And he was pretty sure the rules only applied heterosexual relationships. And if Peter wasn’t gay, then he didn’t feel anything for Miles. And if that was the case, there was no way he could tell Peter how he felt.

He couldn’t even tell himself how he felt. What did any of this mean? Was he in love with his best friend? Was he physically attracted to him? Did he want them to be together? 

Miles was stirred from his agonizing thoughts by a loud yawn behind him. “I think I’m ready to pass out,” Peter set down his controller and rubbed at his eyes. Miles sat up and suddenly remembered what Peter had said earlier. _You could just sleep in my room tonight._ He wasn’t sure if it was a serious offer, but he was too nervous to ask.

“Yeah, let me head down. I’ve gotta set my school alarm. I’ll be gone when you get up.”

“Hey wait,” Peter said slowly, sounding a little unsure. “It’s really cold down there. You were gonna sleep with me, remember?” Yeah, of course he remembered.

“Oh, like on the floor?” Miles said, feeling dumb.

Peter patted the bed beside him, “Don’t hog the blanket. I can’t sleep when I’m cold—I’m very delicate.” Miles rolled his eyes.

The pair got into bed, with Miles trying to stay as far as humanly possible from the older man. They managed to get settled in without too much awkwardness. It seemed like Peter was already starting to fall asleep, breathing heavily in a slow rhythm. Miles had his back turned to his friend, laying dangerously close to the edge of the bed.

“Hey Peter?” Miles whispered, his voice dry and hoarse.

“Mmm?” Peter replied sleepily.

“I’ve been thinking...”

“Less thinking, more sleeping,” Peter groaned.

Miles fell silent. He wanted so much more than this, but in that moment it was enough.

“Hey Miles?”

“Mmm?”

“Come closer. I’m cold.”

Miles rolled onto his back so he was laying side-by-side with Peter, but not daring to get any closer than the 6 or so inches between them.

“Hey Peter?” Miles whispered into the dark, but was only answered with a soft snore. He shut his eyes, and soon both of them were sound asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of my readers, and a big shout-out to Mank for all the great suggestions. Keep them coming!

Miles had fallen into the habit of sleeping in Peter’s bed on Sunday nights. They usually kept a safe buffer between them, but some mornings they would wake up to find themselves huddled up close under the covers. Peter hated being cold.  
  
One cold Monday morning in December, Miles slipped quietly out of Peter’s bed and dressed himself in the wrinkled clothes from his backpack. It was 6:30, and he’d have to catch the 6:55 bus to beat the morning bell at school. Miles sat on the end of the bed to tie his sneakers when a voice behind him startled him. He wasn’t used to Peter waking up with him on school days. He would usually get dressed, grab something eat downstairs, and walk the few blocks to the end of the street where he’d catch the city bus to Brooklyn. Peter was usually snoring in the background, oblivious to Miles’ morning routine.  
  
“‘Morning beautiful,” Peter teased, his voice deep and groggy. Miles knew he was only joking, but it made him blush all the same. “Can we sleep in a little longer?”  
  
“I’ve gotta leave in 15 minutes for the bus,” Miles finished tying his shoes and zipped on his hoodie.  
  
“Can’t you skip class and come back to bed?” Miles’ heart was beating fast thinking about it, and for a moment he seriously considered the offer.  
  
“Only if you’ll do all of my makeup work.”  
  
“Deal.”  
  
Miles laughed and flopped back on the bed to lay beside Peter. “You don’t mean that,” Miles teased back.  
  
“Oh but I do,” Peter turned on his side to face Miles with his chin propped up in his hand and a playful grin on his lips.  
  
“Yeah?” Miles raised an eyebrow at the older man.  
  
“You know I can’t sleep when I’m cold,” Peter reached out an arm, gesturing Miles closer. Miles hesitated, not sure where the line between teasing ended and reality began. That line became a little blurrier for him these days.  
  
Miles went for it anyway. He laughed nervously and scooted in a little closer, and as he did, Peter opened his arms to pull Miles into his chest. He melted into Peter’s arms as the bigger man held him close, and Miles allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy the feeling. He wasn’t laughing anymore. Neither was Peter.  
  
Peter smelled so good—clean and familiar and a little sweaty. Miles didn’t know if he should embrace Peter too, or lay still. He settled for draping his arm across Peter’s waist and allowed himself to relax a little in the larger man’s arms. It was intoxicating and terrifying and he needed more.  
  
“Now can you sleep?” Miles whispered into Peter’s t-shirt covered chest.  
  
Peter took his time in answering. “No,” he laughed a little.  
  
“So what are you gonna do when I’m not around and you have to sleep alone?"  
  
“Maybe I won’t have to...”  
  
“Oh, you got someone else to fill in, huh?”  
  
“No, but I’ve got something even better.”  
  
“Yeah, and what’s that?”  
  
“Keys to my new place in Brooklyn.”  
  
“Oh shit, for real?” Miles pulled back a little bit to look at Peter’s face. Peter was grinning, looking pleased with himself.  
  
“Well, I’ll have them later today. But my lease doesn't start until January 1st."  
  
“That’s so freaking cool, man. You're really coming up now.”  
  
“I thought maybe you could keep some of your stuff there in case you wanna stay over sometimes, even during the week or whatever.”  
  
“So I can keep you warm?” Miles laughed.  
  
“No,” Peter’s voice got kind of serious. “I like knowing you’re safe and taking care of you. I don’t have to worry about what you’re getting into when you’re with me.” Just then, the alarm on Miles’ phone started ringing to remind him it was time to leave for the bus. “But I’m pretty sure my new place doesn’t have heating, so that too.”  
  
Miles spent the entire bus ride to Brooklyn thinking about Peter holding him close, even though he knew it was just Peter being Peter. Even so, he was riding on that high for the rest of the day, barely focusing on his lessons.  
  


* * *

  
Miles didn’t text Peter at all that week with how hectic his school schedule had been, and with Peter in the midst of packing for his new apartment. The days came and went, and Miles’s heart was aching with dull anticipation and longing. He felt like they had crossed some strange threshold where things were tipping past the point of no return. Where he wouldn’t be able to control himself around Peter. Wouldn’t be able to keep pushing it down. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to, and it was consuming him.  
  
It was almost midnight on Friday, and Miles sat with his phone in his hand. He tapped his foot anxiously under his desk, looking at the cracked-open window of his dorm every few minutes. In the pit of his stomach, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gone too far when they were last together. Had he misread the situation entirely that morning with Peter? Is that why they hadn’t talked in days?  
  
Ganke could tell something was up and had expressed concern for his friend on more than one occasion lately. In a way, Miles felt guilty for keeping this from his roommate. They were close friends, and he was probably the only person Miles could be one hundred percent himself around besides Peter—two of the only people he trusted with his secret identity. They didn't keep secrets. Miles was the only person who knew Ganke had a crush on his Wonder Woman pillow. And nobody else knew that he talked in his sleep about kissing his second cousin. And he was the only one who knew that Ganke was constantly afraid of being a failure.  
  
Ever since Miles started feeling confused about Peter and his own identity, he and Ganke didn't talk like they used to. If Miles had to talk about his feelings for Peter, then they would become real. And if they were real, would that make him gay? He didn't really want to find out, and he _really_ didn't want to talk about it.  
  
Miles must have typed and deleted a hundred different messages to Peter, but didn’t have the nerve to hit send to send on any of them.  
  
 _Hey, about the other morning..._ DELETE.  
  
 _We need to talk._ DELETE.  
  
 _I need to tell you something but I’m scared._ DELETE.  
  
 _Do you think I might be gay?_ DELETE. DELETE. DELETE.  
  
 _Love you, P._ DELETE.  
  
"Dude, are you just gonna stare at your phone all night, or can we do something? It's been a really long time since we hung out."  
  
"Yeah man, you wanna run that raid again? I leveled up since the last time we played."  
  
Miles’ phone buzzed and Peter’s name flashed across the screen. A new text message.  
  
 _I think I need to see u tonight. You alone?_  
  
Miles’ heart started racing. Why did that sound so provocative?  
  
Be cool, Miles.  
  
 _That sounds naughty._ DELETE?! Except he didn’t delete, he fucking hit send.  
  
The long silence that followed after his message was marked 'seen' was agonizing. He wasn’t actually sure if he’d meant to delete it or if he subconsciously wanted to torture himself by hitting send, but in a way it was cathartic even with his heart beating out of his chest.  
  
 _Is ur roommate there?_  
  
 _Yeah_  
  
 _Shit. Ok gonna come get u, pack ur stuff._  
  
Suddenly everything was right in the world again.  
  
"Miles, what the hell?" Ganke was waving a hand in front of Miles' face. "Are you in a trance or something? Is it a Spider-Man thing?"  
  
"Sorry man. Look, I just have a lot going on right now. I don't think I'm gonna be able to play tonight. I'm sorry, maybe we can do the raid tomorrow."  
  
Ganke sighed, furrowing his brow. "I guess that's just how things are between us now, huh."  
  
"Nah man, it's not like that. I do want to hang out with you. Things are really...confusing right now."  
  
"Nothing confusing about it to me. Except the part where you really suck as a friend lately."  
  
Miles shut his eyes and pressed the bridge of his nose, trying to gain composure. _Here goes nothing._  
  
"Alright, I'll tell you how it is. But you better not say anything about it to anyone, I'm serious."  
  
Ganke shot him a sideways glance, "seriously, dude? You're gonna tell _me_ about keeping secrets?"  
  
"Okay yeah, I get it. But this is like a million times more serious than the Spider-Man thing, okay? I need you to promise."  
  
Ganke rolled his eyes, "yeah okay, I promise."  
  


* * *

The bus ride to Queens gave Miles time to clear his head as Peter snored through the whole ride, drool trickling down his chin. Miles couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked in that moment, and he allowed himself to indulge in that thought. He didn’t push the thought away or chastise himself or question his sanity. He just held onto the feeling, staring at his napping friend in awe of how perfectly imperfect he was. It felt kind of good.  
  
In Queens, the streets were quiet so that the walk from the bus stop to Aunt May’s house felt uncomfortably charged with silent tension. The familiar buzzing and flickering of street lights let Miles know they were home. As Peter fumbled around in the dark with the house key, Miles was surprised to see Aunt May’s car wasn’t in the driveway.  
  
Peter must have noticed him looking, “Aunt May left this morning to stay with her sister. Got the place to ourselves.” Miles blushed, unable to stop his mind from filling in the blanks with things he most certainly would _not_ be doing with Peter, but his body was convinced otherwise.  
  
Something was off about Peter, Miles could sense it from the moment they walked through the front door. He was quiet and reserved, in stark contrast to the rapid beating of Miles’ heart and the somersaults his stomach was doing. Things felt different between them, just as Miles had feared. Had he really made his feelings so obvious that Peter felt uncomfortable around him?  
  
Peter grabbed some snacks and led Miles up the stairs to his bedroom at the end of the hall. His room was a mess of cardboard moving boxes and stacks of clothes. Miles wondered how Peter had accumulated so much stuff in the short time he'd been living in this world. They got to talking about school and plans for Peter's new place, but things felt strained as if Peter were holding something back. So was Miles. He wanted to clear the tension in the air, but how?  
  
 _Sorry I’ve been acting weird lately, it’s just that I’m in love with you._ Or better yet, _ever since I saw you beating your dick I can’t stop thinking about you sexually and I think I want to kiss you?_

While he was running through these scenarios in his head, Peter broke the silence.  
  
“Miles?”  
  
“Mm..”  
  
“Lay next to me,” Miles was sitting on the floor, while Peter was laying back on his bed that suddenly seemed too small for sharing.  
  
Miles was nervous but he wasn’t sure why. They’d sat on this bed together playing video games late into the night on most weekends. He’d slept just inches away from Peter on this bed. They had sat huddled under the covers talking about life and responsibilities and dreams, and nothing weird had ever happened. But that was before Miles' heart and brain and body betrayed him and made him...this way. Whatever this was. This felt weird.  
  
He sat on the bed next to Peter, the mattress creaking loudly as he did. Both of them were leaning back against the headboard on their respective sides of the bed with a little space between them. He didn’t dare turn to look at his friend—it felt too intimate in that moment. He stared at his own hands instead, his face feeling hot and tingly.  
  
“I need to talk about something that’s been bothering me. I don’t where I'm going with this, but I just want things to be normal with us. I just need you to promise to forget about it after this, okay?”  
  
“Uh...”  
  
“Just say okay.”  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“It’s about when I slept in your dorm last month.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“It’s about that morning.”  
  
 _“_ Oh _...oh.”_ Miles’ eyes went wide with realization, and in that moment he was thankful he had the foresight to look down at his hands and anywhere but Peter. His face flushed with combination of lust, embarrassment, and nervous energy.  
  
“Yeah...”  
  
“Peter we don’t have to—“  
  
“No Miles, I do. I feel like things have been weird between us since then and I just want you to know I wasn’t, um...”  
  
“Jerking off in my bathroom?”  
  
“I ah...well yeah, I was. But I didn’t want you to think I was um...that I was jerking off to you.”  
  
Miles became very preoccupied with a thread on his sleeve. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him that Peter could have been thinking about him, but it did now. He felt kind of...disappointed?  
  
“Oh. That’s okay,” he tried to sound casual and unaffected but it came out as a dry whisper. Miles felt like his body was on fire. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he didn’t want it to end because it was the first time they’d talked about the way things were between them. The way he wanted things to be. He just needed to tell Peter before things went back to normal, and this was his only chance. “But if you wanted to...”  
  
Peter didn’t say anything for an agonizing eternity of silence. What did Miles expect him to say?  
  
“I think we should get some sleep. It’s really late. We shouldn’t talk about this again, okay?”  
  
“I guess.” Miles felt foolish for thinking Peter would react favorably to his advances. He was in over his head—a kid trying to put moves on a grown man and drowning in embarrassment for thinking any of this was a good idea in the first place. He begrudgingly accepted defeat, rolling to his side as far from Peter as possible and shutting his eyes until sleep took him.

* * *

  
Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Miles woke up tossing and turning in the small space on his side of the bed. He couldn’t settle back down as his mind flashed back to their earlier discussion. He felt mortified, but wasn’t sure how to fix it. He couldn’t relax with Peter just inches away. If Miles wasn’t careful, one wrong move could have him pressed up against the older man. The thought of feeling his friend’s body against his smaller frame, limbs entangled and slick skin sticking together made his dick ache.  
  
He stole a glance in Peter’s direction, daring to indulge himself as his dick tightened and hardened in his pajama pants. He knew Peter was a deep sleeper. He slid a hand down, wrapping slender fingers around his own hot and sweaty erection. It felt so good he could almost visualize Peter reaching down to help take care of him.  
  
He freed his straining erection from his pants and wrapped both hands around himself, imagining the added sensation was Peter’s larger hand enveloping him in its grip. That was heavenly, slowly rocking his hips upward into his fisted hands as he turned his head to watch Peter’s face. He imagined what it would feel like to be pleasured by his best friend, imagined what Peter would say, how he would furrow his brow in concentration like he always did when presented with a challenge. It was the first time he’d allowed himself to think about Peter like this.  
  
Miles’ eyes rolled back and he closed them, losing himself to the feeling as his hips involuntarily bucked faster, erratically thrusting into his two hands for several deliciously agonizing minutes. He felt himself nearing the edge, so close to busting that he had to slow himself down. He stilled his hips.  
  
He carefully turned toward Peter and opened his eyes to steal another glance, but his stomach sank when he was met with a half-lidded gaze. Peter was awake, his lips parted and slow heavy breaths escaping them. He was watching Miles—for how long, he didn’t know. Both Spider-Men lay peering through the darkness at one another, neither daring to move. Miles wanted to reach out and touch the older man, but he was afraid to close the space between them.  
  
“Were you thinking about me, Miles?” His heart could have stopped at the sexually-charged question. Peter’s voice was soft and breathy, and sounded so delicious, and Miles was so close to the edge his dick was twitching and bobbing under the blanket, begging for contact.  
  
“Yeah,” he barely choked the word out.  
  
“Tell me,” Peter breathed out softly, looking glazed over like he was in a trance.  
  
“I was thinking about...” he was too nervous to say it. He froze in silence, painfully aware of Peter’s gaze on him. The tension between them was too much for his aching dick. He squeezed his legs together to try and hold off his release but it was futile. His dick throbbed and he gripped it painfully hard in a final attempt at holding off his orgasm, but it was too late.  
  
Miles groaned loudly as his cum spurted onto the bed, over his clenched fist, and probably onto Peter who lay just inches away beneath the shared blanket. He closed his eyes, afraid to look at Peter. He wanted to disappear, but even with all his training he couldn’t will himself to do it.  
  
“Sorry,” Miles managed to choke the word out even though he didn’t know if it was the right thing to say.  
  
After a painfully long pause, Peter sighed. “Goodnight Miles,” his voice was barely a whisper. Miles wanted so much more but he didn’t know what to say. He closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.  
  


* * *

When Miles woke up in Peter’s bed, he was alone. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table to check the time. It was 8:00 and there was a text notification from Peter. He suddenly became painfully aware of the events that transpired earlier, and for a fleeting moment he wondered if there was a possibility it could have been a dream. His sweatpants pulled down to his knees suggested otherwise. He checked Peter’s text message.  
  
 _I have some things to take care of. Left you some bagels downstairs. Catch up with you later._  
  
That stung pretty deep. Peter didn’t even acknowledge what happened between them, he just left Miles alone. Miles sat on Aunt May’s couch eating breakfast and turning every detail over in his mind. He wondered if he’d misjudged the whole situation.  
  
 _Were you thinking about me, Miles?_ Maybe Peter was more shocked than turned on. Miles must have misread the entire thing, just like the morning when he cuddled up to him in Peter's bed. He had never felt so stupid and embarrassed.  
  
After gathering his things, he took the next bus to Brooklyn and spent the day at home with his parents. The passing hours were torture as Miles watched his phone for another message from Peter, but it didn’t come. How did things go so wrong?  
  
That night, Miles couldn’t sleep. He wondered if Peter was laying in his own bed at that moment too. Would he think about their encounter the night before? He looked at his phone; it was almost midnight. Knowing Peter, he was laying in bed watching tv. Miles should be there watching with him or playing video games like most Saturday nights, but instead he was alone in his room, obsessing over what Peter might be thinking or doing. He’d had enough.  
  
Before he thought better of it, Miles found himself pressing the button to dial Peter. After several rings Miles was sure there would be no answer, but just as he was about to hang up, that familiar deep voice was on the other line.  
  
“It’s late, Miles,” Peter sounded annoyed and tired.  
  
“You’re up, aren’t you?”  
  
“I am now," Peter grumbled.  
  
“I’ll make it quick.” Miles had no idea what he was going to say, just that he needed to say it. “Look, about this morning—“  
  
“I can’t do this, Miles.”  
  
“Do what? You don’t even know what I was going to say.”  
  
“Then don’t say anything,” Peter’s voice was flat and emotionless.  
  
“But _why_ , man? Why'd you let me keep going if you didn't like it?"  
  
“I don’t know where this is coming from, Miles.”  
  
“I don’t know, maybe it's because you asked me if I was thinking about you when I was touching my dick?” Miles lowered his voice to a whisper, afraid that his parents might hear.  
  
“I know this is confusing Miles, but I think you’re misreading the situation. Nothing happened between us."  
  
"That's not what—"  
  
"—I started seeing Mary Jane," Peter cut him off mid-sentence, his words slicing like a hot knife.  
  
“What are you saying, man? MJ is in another world and you’re here. You’re not even making sense.”  
  
“Not my MJ—your MJ," Peter was so calm it was infuriating.  
  
“I DON’T HAVE AN MJ!" Miles lowered his voice again so that he was shouting in a frantic whisper.  
  
“Well, me and the MJ from your world have been talking. There might be something there, I don’t know.”  
  
“Oh so now you’re just conveniently dating someone else?”  
  
“Not dating, we’re talking. I saw her one time. And it's not just _someone_ , it's Mary Jane. Aunt May introduced us last month, and I've gotta say Miles, I thought _maybe_ you'd be happy for me. I'm really trying to get my life together,” with each word, Peter's voice got louder and and more resentful.  
  
“So that’s it?”  
  
“Nothing’s changed, Miles. You’re like the most important person in the world to me, you know that. I don't want anything to change that, Miles."  
  
“You just did.”  
  
“You had to know this would never work, can’t you see that?”  
  
“Fuck you.” Miles hung up on Peter, his eyes stinging with fresh tears. There was nothing more he could say tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

It was January, as cold and miserable as any had ever been. Miles pulled his hood up around his head, stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets and pushed through the sea of people on his way home from school. He kept his head down, as he always did these days.  
  
Miles didn't go to his dorm after school anymore. Instead, he kept himself busy with Spider-Man responsibilities, patrolling the city. Ganke worried about him and even offered to come out on watch with him from time to time, but was always willing to keep his cover when Miles needed him to. Miles had been keeping a close watch on things going on in his neighborhood, and even picked up some leads from listening to his dad.  
  
In the last month since he went solo, he stopped a robbery at his neighborhood bodega, took down a would-be shooter at the subway station, and even defused a hostage situation at the community center. Peter would say he was looking for trouble—and maybe he was—but it gave him a sense of purpose to feel needed, and he kind of liked the attention.  
  
Miles turned down a side street into an empty alley. Even in the late afternoon sun, the air was cold and sharp and smelled like a wood burning fire from the chimneys above the alley. It reminded him of Aunt May’s house on cold Sunday evenings. He would go and see her next weekend—it had been too long.  
  
Dipping behind a trash can, Miles unzipped his backpack and pulled his balled-up Spider-Man suit from the inside pocket. He braced himself for the cold, stripping down to his underwear and slipping on the black and red suit. Instant warmth...the material had temperature-regulating fibers, and even in the coldest of winter nights he was comfortable inside his suit. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way up to the rooftops above.  
  
He sat perched next to a smoking chimney, admiring how peaceful the city looked from above. But he wasn’t here to admire the scenery—he had business to attend to.  
  
He’d been following a new lead for two weeks now. His dad told him about a gang of mostly-teens who were dressing up as villains and imitating them. Most of it was just amateur stuff, but some of them were gaining traction by teaming up with some of the bigger crime syndicates in the city. One of the more dangerous factions of this makeshift gang had been terrorizing some local neighborhoods. One of Miles’ neighbors was beaten up pretty badly in a burglary by two guys dressed as Green Goblin and Hobgoblin.  
  
The latest lead that Miles had picked up after the most recent attack was that a small group of them were going to kidnap a local millionaire for ransom. Thanks to finessing some details out of his dad, he had worked out the day and the place. What he didn't know was how the attack would be carried out, or at what time, but he could work with that. He figured he had until at least sundown.  
  
The hours passed until the chimneys burnt out one by one. People were turning off their lights and going to bed. Miles spent the hours listening to music on his headphones, pacing the rooftops, and reading through every single text message Peter had ever sent him. Analyzing every word, he tried to glean something from them that he must have overlooked all this time. Was there something he missed, back before he realized his feelings for Peter? Some small detail that he could piece things together with so that any of this would make sense?  
  
Feb 2nd  
Miles: _Can you pick me up? My dad is getting on my case_  
Peter: _right now?_  
Miles: _yeah imma sneak out my window_  
Peter: _kinda romantic, think we should run away together?_  
Miles: _haha just come get me okay?_  
Peter: _always, kid_  
  
May 15  
Miles: _Then why didn’t you ask her out, man? She was all over you!_  
Peter: _Because I only love you_  
Miles: _Haha nah for real though_  
Peter: _When would I have time to date when I’m with you 24/7? Maybe I’ll have to date you_  
Miles: _Haha chill_  
  
July 4  
Peter: _Sorry I got so mad earlier about the school thing_  
Miles: _I get it, it’s whatever_  
Peter: _It’s not whatever Miles. I just wanna see you do better. You know I’m always gonna take care of you, but u gotta stop putting training before school_  
Miles: _Wooooow you sound like my dad_  
Peter: _you can call me dad if ur into that_  
Miles: _lol fuck off_  
  
Miles put his phone in his bag, his hands shaking as he fumbled around with the zipper. He had almost forgotten why he was sitting on a freezing cold rooftop at 9:30 on a Thursday night. He nearly jumped out of his suit when he heard someone calling his name down below: it was Ganke.  
  
“Miles! What are you—“  
  
“Shhh!” he shot a small web over Ganke’s mouth.  
  
Ganke was standing in the alley below, looking up at Miles. Even from 2 stories up, Miles could see the worry in his features as he clawed through the sticky web.  
  
Miles dropped silently down to the alley. “What gives, man? You’re about to blow my cover!”  
  
“That’s the point!” Ganke hissed back.  
  
“You better have a good reason to be out here! It’s not safe in this hood at night.”  
  
Ganke looked at him sideways, “likewise.”  
  
“In case you didn’t notice, only one of us is Spider-Man, and don’t think the suit would fit you.”  
  
“Wow, that’s messed up.”  
  
“I ain’t even mean it like that. You’ve gotta go, man. I don’t want you to get caught up in this.”  
  
“That’s the thing, Miles. I don’t think you know what you’re about to get caught up in, either.”  
  
“I know I’ve been casing out this alley for—“ he grabbed Ganke’s wrist to look at his watch, “five hours, and if you blow my cover now—“  
  
“Miles, stop talking,” Ganke snapped his fingers in his friend’s face to get his attention. “I saw your notes on the desk and I ran it through the PDNY database.”  
  
“You can do that?”  
  
“Well, not legally, anyway. Miles, I think you’re being set up.”  
  
That got Miles’ attention. “How do you figure?”  
  
“I don’t know, but look at this,” he handed Miles a piece of paper.  
  
“What am I looking at?”  
  
“Report from the police informant on the case. Details about tonight’s mark. Over there, on the second section from the bottom.”  
  
“Reward?”  
  
“No, after that.”  
  
“Targeted individual is Sp—“  
  
“—is Spider-Man!” Ganke interrupted.  
  
“Yeah, I just read that. Target...Spider-Man, got it.”  
  
“I wanted to say it! You never let me do anything cool.”  
  
"So what does it mean?"  
  
"Do I have to spell it out for you? Look, right here. They're targeting Spider-Man under the guise of kidnapping a local millionaire. It’s a set-up to lure you straight to their trap! Do you think they’re watching us right now?”  
  
"You watch too many movies.”  
  
"But look!" Ganke pointed at the paper dramatically. He was clearly in his element. He always wanted to be in an action movie, and hanging out with Miles was probably the closest he'd ever get.  
  
Miles squinted his eyes through the dull glow of the streetlights to get a closer look.  
  
“...orders to shoot target on site.”  
  
“These guys are gunning for you, Miles! Do you think they have snipers?” he looked up at the windows framing the alley.  
  
“Ganke, you've gotta get going. Wait a second." Miles swung up to the roof and ruffled through his backpack. He grabbed his phone and hoodie, slipping it on over his Spider-Man suit before tossing the bag down to the ground below. "Take this. And don't stop anywhere on the way." Ganke obliged this time, darting out of the alley.  
  
Miles paced the rooftop, trying to plan his next steps carefully. He wondered if he should retreat back down to the alley below where he wouldn't be so vulnerable to attack. He was scoping out all of his possible escape points when suddenly a window smashed across the alley. The glass falling to the pavement below echoed through the night. Miles threw himself to the ground, wondering if it was a bullet that took out the window across the way. He had to get to a better vantage point.  
  
As he crawled his way toward the edge of the rooftop so he could make his way back down, a group of teens appeared at the stairwell. There were three of them dressed in elaborate costumes: Green Goblin, Kingpin, and Doc Ock. Miles looked them over as he stood up to face off against them. They were young...really young. The one dressed like Green Goblin couldn't have been any older than Miles at most.  
  
From there, everything happened so fast yet seemed like it was playing out in slow motion. The one dressed like Green Goblin took something out of his bag that looked like a pumpkin bomb. 'Pretty authentic' Miles thought before watching it come at him in slow motion. He started to laugh at the absurdity of the scene before him, but as he caught it in his hands he wasn't laughing anymore; it blew up.  
  


* * *

  
When Miles came-to, he was strapped to a chair, blindfolded and gagged over his cowl. He didn't think he was on the rooftop anymore. It was quiet; the sounds of the city streets were replaced with the dull buzzing of machinery, and he could barely make out the words of hushed voices behind him. Trying not to panic, Miles wracked his brain for anything that could help him out of his current predicament. He wondered if he could use any of his powers to break free from the ropes around his wrists, but they were tied to the chair.  
  
Just then, a familiar voice echoed through the space right on cue: Peter.  
  
"Wow, nice lair you've got here. Must be a step up from your mom's basement," Peter's voice was strong and relaxed, and sent a surge of warmth through Miles' body. The other voices were getting closer, as he imagined Peter squaring up against the group of villains from the rooftop. "Love the costumes. You guys must be a big hit at Halloween parties."  
  
"About time this guy showed up for his little boyfriend," said one of the unfamiliar voices. He sounded like a teenager.  
  
Suddenly the mood in the air shifted, and Miles could hear a fight breaking out. If Peter would just untie him already, he could make himself useful. Peter seemed to be ignoring him in favor of going solo against the costumed villains. Miles could make out the sounds of Peter's web shooters, and what sounded like chairs toppling over. Peter's voice sounded close as he shouted out.  
  
After a confusing scuffle, the fighting died down and the only sound Miles could hear was the machinery humming once again. He wished Peter would say something so Miles would know he was okay. After a long pause—footsteps. Gentle hands unbound him: first his wrists and body, then his mouth and eyes. After a moment's hesitation, Peter pulled off Miles' cowl.  
  
Peter was kneeling at Miles' feet. He pulled off his own mask and tossed it aside before looking up and searching the younger boy's eyes, his brows furrowed with worry. "You're okay," he breathed out in what Miles hoped was a sigh of relief and not disappointment. There were so many emotions he couldn't put into words at seeing his friend's face that Miles felt his eyes burning with tears. He felt childish for allowing them to spill, and with shaky hands he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.  
  
"Hey, I'm here now," Peter said softly, brushing a tear from Miles' cheek with his gloved thumb, "you're safe," Miles gazed down into the older man’s eyes. He wanted to tell him everything in that moment. That he wasn't crying because he was scared, but because his heart was broken and bleeding for Peter. Miles wanted to shake sense into the older Spider-Man, slap him, scream at him for being so careless with him. But mostly he wanted to pull Peter up to straddle him right there on the chair in a warehouse in the middle of lord-knows-where and put his hands and mouth on every inch of him.  
  
"I know," he looked away, unable to hold Peter's gaze. They had the more pressing matter of dealing with the villains to attend to, and Miles was thankful to escape Peter's intense eyes on him in that moment of vulnerability as the PDNY arrived on scene.  
  


* * *

  
Both Spider-Men sat in pained silence in the back of a police car as they hitched a ride back to Brooklyn. It's not like they had their street clothes with them, so they couldn't risk taking a bus or taxi from the Lower East Side back to Brooklyn. On the ride back, Miles was a mess.  
  
He replayed the phone conversation from 3 weeks ago in his mind, when Peter confessed his interest in Mary Jane. He went back further and thought about the morning in bed when Peter pulled him close against his body, and how it somehow felt both innocent and intimate. He thought about when he caught Peter watching as he got himself off, while Miles was imagining Peter's hands wrapped around his dick instead of his own. And he remembered that morning in his bathroom when he walked in on Peter with his pants around his ankles. That visual of Peter's hand wrapped around himself, stroking deliciously slow while a deep visceral groan escaped his lips, was perhaps the exact moment Miles started feeling something more than platonic friendship toward the man.  
  
If Miles could go back in time and insert himself back into those memories, he would have dropped to his knees at Peter’s feet that morning in the bathroom and asked to help finish him off. When Peter asked what he was thinking about as he fucked both of his fists, he would have told him he was pretending it was Peter's big rough hand on him. The morning Peter held him in his arms, Miles would tell him that he loves him with every breath in his body. Maybe if he'd done all of those things, that phone call never would have happened.  
  
There were 12 missed calls and even more text messages from Ganke. ' _I'm ok...with Peter_ ' he texted Ganke before stuffing his phone back into his pocket. When he pulled his hand back out of his hoodie pocket, Peter suddenly took it into his own, giving Miles' hand a squeeze.  
  
Miles squeezed back because Peter's hand in his was the only thing in the entire world that made any sense in that moment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be working, but here I am writing this. Enjoy!

Miles was sitting on a lumpy and slightly musty couch in Peter’s living room, still in his Spider-Man suit and hoodie. He never thought he’d end the night in Peter’s apartment, but when the police officer they carpooled with had asked for the drop off address, Peter spoke up first.  
  
“Drop us by the hospital and we’ll walk the rest,” there was an authority to his voice that left no room for argument on Miles’ part. They didn’t say anything to one another for the duration of the ride or the six block walk.  
  
Now he was in Peter’s apartment. It was what he’d expected—which is to say it was a step down from his school dorm—and felt literally freezing. Peter was in the kitchen, and Miles sat awkwardly alone, not sure where to look or what to do with his hands. Peter’s idea of decor was an assortment of movie posters and an official wall calendar of himself. The place was bigger than he imagined, which only made it feel empty since there wasn’t enough furniture to fill in the space.  
  
Miles was nervous. He wasn’t mad at Peter in that moment, but the tension between them was painful and unfamiliar. The last time they had seen each other, Miles was masturbating in Peter's bed, and now they were barely on speaking terms. It was too much for Miles. He wanted to make things right, but he was stubborn. He wasn't ready to pour his heart out, and he wasn't ready to forgive Peter. If Peter wanted to make things right, then that was on him.  
  
Peter's voice disturbed Miles from his thoughts.  
  
"I had a nice place, once. A little brownstone in Queens. Mary Jane, she..." Peter faltered a moment, "...she used to do all the decorating." Peter handed him a mug of something hot and sat down on the opposite side of the couch. His voice was low and wistful. "She loved flowers. We always had flowers on the table, lace curtains, nice plates." Peter took a loud sip of his cocoa. "I wasn't always this way. I used to be somebody."  
  
Miles looked up at Peter. He looked disheveled in sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt that was two sizes too big. The man's eyes looked pained, sunken. Like he hadn't slept in weeks. He looked how Miles felt.  
  
"When Mary Jane left, I..." Peter looked down into his mug, "I lost myself."  
  
The silent tension was almost painful. Miles didn't know the right words to say.  
  
"I lost Peter Parker, the man. There was only Spider-Man. There was nobody under the mask, just a...a weak, washed-up—"  
  
"Peter STOP," Miles couldn't bear to hear him speak this way.  
  
"I lost all of it, Miles. My wife, my home, my pride. Do you know how that feels? I stopped living and just started sort of...existing."  
  
Peter looked up at the ceiling and sighed, defeated. "And then I met you." Peter took another sip of his drink, looking up at Miles with painfully-intense eyes that lit Miles' soul on fire.  
  
Miles' face felt hot. His heart was racing beyond his control like the first time he'd jumped off a building. He felt dizzy. Those eyes. There were no limits to the things those eyes could make him do. He was going to do it. He was going to spill his fucking heart out over this cup of cocoa on Peter's couch and tell him everything. He couldn’t see any other way they’d make it through this.  
  
"Peter, I love you."  
  
"You know I love you, Miles."  
  
"You don't get it, man."  
  
"Miles, don't."  
  
"No, listen! I said I love you, Peter. I love you and I don't know what to do. I can't stop! I tried, and I can't." Miles' eyes were burning with unspilled tears. He squeezed them shut to stop them from flowing. "I really tried."  
  
"I can't be what you need me to be, Miles," his voice sounded hollow, empty.  
  
"I don't need you to be anything, I just need you to be with me. Please, Peter," he was begging as if he were pleading for his own life. " _Please_..." his hands were shaking. The tears were flowing down his cheeks now, and Miles felt like a child. Just like how Peter always saw him, just a kid.  
  
"You don't know what you're asking, Miles."  
  
Miles set his mug down and wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie. He found the courage to meet Peter's gaze, his eyes narrowed with sudden determination. He couldn't leave anything unsaid. "I know what I want, Peter. I'm not a kid anymore. I know you think I am, but this isn't about that." Miles could see Peter shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. "I'm more of a man than you think."  
  
"Yeah?" Peter raised an eyebrow. He took another loud sip of his drink before setting it down, pausing for a moment as if he were choosing his words deliberately. Sizing Miles up. "Prove it."  
  
Miles couldn't think. He didn't have any words. His body did all the work.  
  
In one motion, he slid across the couch to Peter, turning to straddle his lap. If he had the wherewithal to stop and think, he probably would have waited to test Peter's reaction. But his body was ready to ride Peter into this couch, and if that's what he had to do to prove he was a man to Peter, then he was going rip their clothes off right here and do just that. If Peter couldn't understand that Miles desperately needed every inch of him all to himself, then he would have to show him. If Peter didn't want him, he was going to by the time Miles was done.  
  
Miles was leaning over the older man, his hands pressed into the back of the couch on either side of Peter's head. He had Peter pinned. His nervous energy stripped his inhibitions, but Miles was clumsy, inexperienced. He wanted to kiss Peter but he had never kissed anyone before. Maybe he really was just a kid. He froze.  
  
Peter reached a hand between them to grab the front of Miles' hoodie. He lingered for a moment, before the older Spider-Man's eyes squeezed shut. Miles thought it looked like Peter was trying to compose himself. They stayed like that until the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing. For moment, he thought Peter might push him off. Peter's grip was so tight on his hoodie that his knuckles were white. He opened his eyes once more and the look in them was unrecognizable. Burning and intense and hungry. He furrowed his brow and yanked Miles down hard, bringing their bodies together.  
  
Miles wasn't sure who finally closed the rest of the space between them, but his lips were suddenly on Peter's—messy and wet and urgent. Peter was kissing him back, hesitantly at first, but gaining momentum until Miles couldn't tell where he ended and Peter began.  
  
Their lips parted and tongues met. Peter softened their kiss so it was intoxicatingly slow and deliberate and deep.  
  
Peter's hands were gripping Miles' hoodie so tight, as if he were clinging to him for his life. The sounds he was making gave Miles the nerve to keep going as his mouth melted into Peter's. The older man was groaning deeply into their kiss, uninhibited. It was like a drug to Miles. The only way he could stop is if Peter pushed him away.  
  
But then Peter suddenly broke the kiss, pulling away even has his hands kept their death grip on Miles. His eyes fluttered closed, lips parted and panting. Miles waited.  
  
"We can't do this," Peter breathed.  
  
"We already did," Miles leaned forward and placed a kiss on Peter's exposed neck.  
  
"Well...now we need to stop," Peter's voice was weak, unconvincing.  
  
"I can't," Miles placed another kiss on Peter's stubbled jaw. Peter groaned.  
  
"Miles, listen to me—"  
  
"No," he closed the gap between them once more, bringing his lips an inch away from Peter's. Peter's senses seemed to be losing the battle with his body as he leaned forward once more to brush his lips against Miles'.  
  
"Fuck, Miles."  
  
"I can if you want me to," he teased, leaning down to kiss the exposed skin on Peter's shoulder where his t-shirt was hanging off.  
  
"No, Miles. Would you just shut up for two seconds?" That made Miles straighten up. "You know I love you, Miles."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"I do, I love you."  
  
"So?"  
  
"It's my job to protect you."  
  
"I can protect myself."  
  
"Like when I had to save you at the warehouse? Look, what I'm trying to say is, I don't want to hurt you."  
  
"Then kiss me again." Peter obliged, leaning in to place another kiss on his partner's lips, as if he weren't in control of himself. His actions were contradicting his words, and even though it was wrong, it felt so good to have that effect on Peter.  
  
"What we're doing is wrong."  
  
"It doesn't _feel_ wrong," Miles was feeling bolder now, encouraged by Peter's body responding positively to his advances. He kissed him again, and this time it was Miles who groaned into Peter's mouth.  
  
"It _is_ wrong," Peter argued between kisses.  
  
"But how does it _feel_?" he punctuated his words with a kiss to Peter's neck, pausing to suck at the pulsing vein there.  
  
"It—it feels good, Miles," Peter's words were a breathy whisper. He sighed. "It feels so good."  
  
"Yeah," Miles pressed their foreheads together, looking into his friends' eyes. They were half-lidded and glazed over, like Peter was in a trance. God, those eyes. They looked right through his soul, sending a wave of pleasure through Miles' belly and making his dick ache. It was throbbing painfully against the tight spandex of his suit, ignored for too long.  
  
"I-I'm trying to be the adult here, and I'm telling you we can't do this."  
  
"If you don't want me, then just say it! You're not making any sense."  
  
Peter's expression changed. His grip loosened on Miles. He looked scared, vulnerable. His voice was hoarse and dry, barely a scratchy whisper when he said it, "I want you, Miles. For fuck's sake, if you can't see that by now—"  
  
Miles closed the space between them again, crushing his lips frantically to Peter's. Peter was eager to reciprocate, sucking at Miles' lip and kissing the corner of his mouth, his jawline, his neck. Miles couldn't control his body when his hips bucked into Peter's belly. When Peter's hips responded, there was no mistaking the feeling of something hard pressing against him. Miles had to close his eyes. It felt like the room was spinning.  
  
Peter held very still, breathing into Miles' neck. Miles could tell he was trying to control himself, still his movements, slow his breathing. How long would Peter try to keep this up, battling between his urges and his self control?  
  
"Please don't stop," Miles' voice sounded desperate, childish, pleading.  
  
"This can't go any further, Miles."  
  
"Then let's just stay like this."  
  
"We have to stop. I can't control myself around you."  
  
"Then don't."  
  
"Please, Miles," this time it was Peter's voice that sounded pleading and desperate. "I can't stop," Miles was taken aback at how Peter's words mirrored his own from earlier, "I'm trying. Help me... _please_."  
  
Peter pressed their foreheads together this time. His eyes were closed, and Miles was alarmed to see a tear squeezing out. He had never seen Peter this way. Miles leaned forward to kiss away his tear, their noses pressed together, both panting breathlessly. That moment felt more intimate than any other, and Miles' arms gave way as he collapsed onto Peter's chest, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He lay still, feeling the beating of Peter's heart against his chest, the pulse on his neck. He felt Peter's arms wrap around his body, clinging to him tightly. They held onto each other like that for an eternity, until both Spider-Men fell asleep.  
  



	8. Chapter 8

When Miles woke up, he was confused. He wasn't in his bed at school or at home. Actually, it wasn't a bed at all. He was laying on a lumpy couch, a pillow tucked under his head and a scratchy wool blanket pulled up to his chin. He sat up and stretched, looking around the room until his eyes met with a Spider-Man wall calendar. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings.  
  
When he took his phone out of his pocket, it was dead. He was _pretty_ sure it was a school day, but had no idea what time it was or where Peter was. He took a moment to recall the events of last night, but pushed it aside for now. He had to find out what time it was and he had to find Peter. He started exploring the apartment. He knew the bathroom was next to the kitchen, having used it last night. Down the hall, he found what must be Peter’s bedroom. He quietly let himself in.

It looked almost the same as Peter’s old room back at Aunt May’s—same furniture, same mess. Peter was sprawled out sleeping on the bed. Miles turned to leave, but paused when he saw a framed photo on the bedside table.  
  
He picked up the photo, looking over his sleeping friend for any signs of waking before sitting on the edge of the bed. Miles’ face flushed when he looked at the picture of them together. Aunt May had taken the picture of them on Miles’ 16th birthday a few months ago. Miles was grinning sheepishly in his favorite hoodie, while Peter had his arm around his shoulder, looking as serious as ever.  
  
Miles spotted Peter’s phone on the bedside table and breathed a sigh of relief that it was just past 7:00. He had about an hour to get to school, and he knew it was only 8 blocks from Peter’s place. He had enough time to eat, get a change of clothes from his dorm, and stroll into class like he didn’t just spend all night in his Spider-Man suit after making out on his best friend's couch.  
  
Just then, he heard the rustling of blankets behind him. Miles quickly replaced the photo on the nightstand and stood to leave.  
  
“‘Morning, beautiful,” it was something Peter said to him once before, when things were a lot more normal between them. “Find what you were looking for?”  
  
“I was just looking for a change of clothes to walk to school in.”  
  
Peter raised an eyebrow, “see anything you like?”  
  
“Uh, I think I’ll just change when I get to school.”  
  
“Here,” Peter crawled his way out of bed with the blanket still wrapped around him and walked over to the closet, pulling out a pair of gray joggers and throwing them at Miles. They looked a little small for Peter. “These would look good on you.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Peter tossed Miles a black t-shirt, “this should fit you too. It never worked for me—my chest is too buff. You can keep it.”  
  
Miles rolled his eyes, “right...”  
  
The older man stood there by the closet, arms folded. “Well?”  
  
Miles pulled his spandex off. He had gotten dressed plenty of times in front of Peter, but it felt different now, especially under Peter’s watchful gaze. He picked up the shirt.  
  
“Pants first,” Peter insisted. Miles couldn’t tell if he was joking, but he obliged, tossing the t-shirt back on the bed.  
  
Miles slipped the pants on. They were only a little big, hanging off his hips, but they fit well enough.  
  
“Wow,” Peter breathed, looking Miles over as he took a step forward. “Can I kiss you like this?”  
  
Miles nodded, feeling a lot more nervous than last night. He wasn’t sure how to act around Peter now. Would things go back to normal?  
  
Peter closed the space between them. He tilted Miles’ chin up and placed gentle kisses all over his face, smiling into the younger boy’s mouth as he landed one final lingering kiss there. Miles sighed. Things felt really good like this. If only he didn’t have Peter’s guilt and unanswered questions about Mary Jane to contend with. Those little kisses would have to be enough to hold him over. He had to get to class.  
  


* * *

  
  
It was Friday evening. Miles was finishing up his homework in his dorm, trying to focus through the images of last night playing in his mind.  
  
Ganke was laying on the bottom bunk reading a comic book when he stopped to look up at Miles over the pages.  
  
“So what are you gonna say when you see him?”  
  
“I don’t know, I guess I was thinking I would see how things go tonight.”  
  
“Are you gonna bring a condom? Guys wear condoms together, right?”  
  
“We’re not gonna—“  
  
“Wait, but which guy wears the condom? Maybe you should bring two.”  
  
“Nobody’s wearing condoms, man! Nothing is gonna happen.”  
  
“Are you gonna be boyfriends?”  
  
“I-I don’t know.”  
  
“Which one gets to be the boyfriend? Does it go by age or something?”  
  
“Ganke, _chill_.”  
  
Miles put the finishing touches on his homework before packing his bag. Peter had asked him to come back after school to spend the night, which was their normal Friday night routine, but after everything that had happened between them, Miles was nervous. He felt like he was getting ready for a date. He showered and changed into what he hoped made him look stylish but still causal. Like he tried, but not too hard.  
  
“How do I look?” Miles turned toward Ganke.  
  
“Um, like you’re going to Peter Parker’s house to have sex?”  
  
Miles sighed, lacing up his sneakers. He paced the dorm for another few minutes until a text came through from Peter, letting him know he was down on the street.  
  
Miles and Ganke bumped fists before Miles slipped out into the night.

* * *

  
  
Back at Peter’s place, they sat on the couch eating pizza and catching the end of a movie. Things were as close to normal as they’d been in a while. Neither acknowledged last night’s exchange, and they talked about school and Spider-Man stuff.  
  
And yet something was nagging at Miles in the back of his mind, growing increasingly persistent until it was too much to ignore. He couldn’t focus on the movie, let alone anything else. There was too much left unsaid. Too many questions. He sighed, fully aware what he was risking. He felt he had no choice.  
  
Miles grabbed the remote and turned off the movie so that the room was suddenly silent. Whatever courage he’d mustered last night from his surging nerves was gone now, and Miles felt uneasy and afraid. His heart was pounding so loud he could hear it over the strained silence.  
  
When Miles turned to look at Peter, he could sense the older man was uneasy too, like he knew what was coming next.  
  
“We should talk... _I know_ ,” Peter sighed, making the first move to clear the air.  
  
“Yeah,” Miles was in way over his head. It made him feel like a helpless child, not knowing what to say or do. He wanted Peter to be the adult, say the right things, set things right again.  
  
“Okay, I’ll go first,” Peter got up to scoot closer to Miles, close enough that their legs were touching as they sat awkwardly adjacent.  
  
In his fantasies, this is the part where Miles imagined they would speak their love for one another. Peter would lament how sightless and uncaring he'd been, and take Miles into his arms asking how he could ever be forgiven. They would make love all night, and in the morning Peter would admit that he couldn't live without him, promising to be his forever.  
  
The reality was a lot less poetic, and a lot more complicated than making up and falling in love. There was unresolved resentment, guilt and jealousy, complicated feelings that weren't reciprocated. Truth be told, neither of them had any experience talking about feelings and raw emotions. It was uncharted territory—a landmine of emotions—and one wrong step could blow the whole thing up again.  
  
"I wish I could take back some of the things I said," Peter spoke cautiously and deliberately. Miles could tell he was treading very carefully with his words.  
  
“Which ones?”  
  
“Don’t talk, I’m trying to think.” Peter sighed, clearly struggling with putting his thoughts into tangible concepts and words. “I want you to know, I’m not seeing MJ.”  
  
Miles let out an audible breath of relief.  
  
“I did meet her at Aunt May’s house...and I did bring her to dinner, so I guess you could say it was a date.” Peter turned now to look at Miles, checking for his reaction. "She was really into it. She called me a lot after that—"  
  
"Wow, congratulations. When's the wedding?" Miles quipped sarcastically, feeling something awful in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"—but I never answered. The next time she came by, I let her down hard. I told her I was already with somebody else...to forget about me. She took it surprisingly hard, which was actually kind of weird. She slapped me. I mean, it might have something to do with the part where I called her 'fake MJ' but I don't know. Aunt May was really disappointed, I could tell."  
  
"You called her 'fake MJ'?"  
  
" _That's_ all you got out of that?” Peter sounded annoyed, but Miles could see the faintest hint of a smirk on the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Then why did you go out with her in the first place?"  
  
"I needed to know something."  
  
"Know _what?_ " Miles pressed.  
  
"It doesn't matter now."  
  
"Why did you let me go through three weeks of hell thinking that you wanted her?"  
  
"I said it doesn't _matter_ now! Can you just leave it alone, Miles?"  
  
"It matters to me."  
  
"I never wanted her," Peter's voice was low and breathy, almost a whisper.  
  
The pair sat wordlessly, the tension in the air a fog of uncertainty surrounding them. Peter reached out a shaky hand just then, bringing it to rest on the younger boy’s lap and giving a reassuring squeeze, gently massaging his thigh. Miles felt the tension leave his body, leaning back on the couch to relax.  
  
Peter looked more relaxed, too. He rubbed Miles’ thigh, humming whispered words of reassurance. “We’re gonna be alright. I’ve got you. Hey, don’t cry, buddy.”  
  
The dam of emotions Miles had been holding in for three weeks was spilling over. He couldn’t put it into words, so his tears spoke for him. He chewed his lip to keep it from quivering, but fresh tears spilled down his cheeks before he could suppress them. He felt relieved, but also angry, jealous, anxious, unsure of himself. There were still too many unanswered questions, too many unknowns.  
  
Peter reached out to wipe a tear with his thumb, and it made Miles feel vulnerable and childlike. He watched through wet lashes as Peter picked up Miles’ smaller hand in his own, hesitating just a moment before bringing it to his lips. He kissed Miles’ palm and slender fingers all over—his lips lingering over the soft skin so gently, like he was taking his time not to miss anywhere. Miles melted at the feeling, his eyes rolling back and fluttering shut. He let out a contented sigh.  
  
Peter pressed Miles’ palm to his cheek, nuzzling the hand against his stubble. “I’m sorry.”  
  
As they sat side-by-side on the couch, Miles leaned into Peter’s larger frame. Peter wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, and Miles marveled at how perfectly they fit together just then, like a puzzle. Peter made him feel small and protected and safe. They sat cuddled up like that for a while until Miles’ breathing slowed back down to a calmer rhythm and he stopped sniffling. A calmness settled over them that Miles hadn’t felt in a while.  
  
“I _was_ thinking about you.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“In the bathroom, at your dorm. I was thinking about you. I lied about it.”  
  
“You...what?” Miles was piecing things together.  
  
“I’ve been thinking about you for a long time.”  
  
Miles’ cheeks flushed hot and red, “how long?”  
  
“You ask too many questions.”  
  
“I...think about you too. A lot.”  
  
“For how long?”  
  
“Since that morning.”  
  
They sat in silence for a while longer. Miles’ stomach was in knots. His hands were sweating—he hoped Peter couldn’t feel how much they were shaking with nerves. He shoved them in his pockets. There was still so much more to say, to know. Like why couldn’t they be together? Why did Peter always push him away? Where were they supposed to go from here? Miles was getting increasingly frustrated at how slow things were moving. Why wasn’t Peter saying anything?  
  
Everything left unsaid would have to wait until the morning. When Miles looked up at his friend, he had fallen asleep right there on the couch, just like old times.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t be stopped, here comes another one.

Sometime in the middle of the night Miles stumbled his way to Peter's bed, alone. He wasn't strong enough to move the sleeping man from the couch, and there was no waking him when he was knocked out, so he left him there.

He settled into Peter's bed and pulled the blanket up around himself. It felt like being wrapped up in Peter, being completely immersed in his scent. The smell was intoxicating. He rolled onto his belly and buried his face in the pillow, breathing in deeply. It sent a wave of pleasure through his core and down to his dick. He found himself rocking his hips against the bed to get more friction. It wasn’t enough.

So much had happened in the last day that Miles didn’t even have time to process. This was the first time he’d been alone since the night before, when he kissed Peter. When everything changed. _‘I_ _want you, Miles,’_ the words sent a shiver down his spine. _‘I_ _can’t stop.’_

He would have sold his soul to have Peter eager and willing beneath him, but he would settle for his own hand. The pillow would be playing the role of Peter tonight. He turned on his side and hugged it tightly to his body. As he breathed it in deeply again, the scent of Peter brought back vivid memories of the night before.

He thought about Peter’s dick pressing up into him as he straddled his best friend. He started pumping into his fist. He thought about Peter’s big rough hands, the delicious stubble on his jaw, that strand of hair that always fell on his forehead. He pumped harder. He thought about the way Peter moaned into his kiss, how he begged Miles to stop, unable to control his own body. Miles came suddenly into his hand. It was intense and uninhibited as he grunted into the pillow and spilled his cum over his knuckles and onto the bed. All over Peter’s pillow. And then it was over. He pulled up his pants, flipped the pillow over, and fell back to sleep.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Miles was awakened with a kiss to his forehead. He opened one eye, squinting through the daylight to see Peter standing over the bed. Peter ran a hand over Miles’ curls and smiled, “‘Morning, beautiful.” Miles could hear that line every day for the rest of his life and never tire of hearing it.

“Hey...” Miles grinned back at him sheepishly.

“Get up. Ganke texted me—your parents are looking for you. You brought clothes, right?”

“Um, yeah. In my bag. Can I shower first?” he blushed after remembering the mess he made of himself in Peter’s bed.

He could have sworn he saw Peter’s ears flush red before he turned away, “a shower? Oh, um...here? Yeah...” he said awkwardly.

"You do have a shower, right?" Miles teased before pushing past him to the bathroom.

After his shower, Miles dried his hair off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He headed toward the kitchen where Peter was drinking a cup of instant coffee. He could have sworn he saw the color drain from Peter's face when he saw the younger boy standing there in the doorway in nothing but a towel.

“Shit,” his coffee dribbled down his chin. “Uh, you lose your clothes or something, buddy?” his voice cracked as he choked out the words, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“Nah, just looking for my bag.” He lingered in the doorway for a minute, before turning to leave. He made his way to Peter’s room, sitting on the edge of the bed to look through his bag. He knew exactly where it was, but loved to see Peter’s reaction.

Miles knew that Peter wanted him, but he wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, since he also knew Peter couldn’t—wouldn’t—be in a relationship with him or give himself to Miles physically. He knew that Peter thought about him sexually, for a while, and that he was trying to control himself around Miles. He knew that Peter loved him—but didn’t know if he was IN love with him. It was too much to keep track of—he couldn’t make sense of any of it. But knowing Peter wanted him was a high he’d be riding in for the rest of his life.

He was in love with Peter. He wanted him, needed him, and would do anything for them to be together. He was finally able to admit that to himself without question.

Just then, Peter knocked on the bedroom door.

"Yeah?”

Peter stepped in looking like a mess. His brow was furrowed, hair dissheveled, and he was wearing the same clothes as 2 nights ago. There was a coffee stain on his shirt that Miles was pretty sure wasn’t there a minute ago.

Miles stood up, wrapping his towel around his waist a little tighter to make sure it stayed on. "What's up?" the younger boy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Huh? Oh..." Peter froze in the doorway, looking down at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but Miles. "I thought you'd be dressed by now. I'll just..." he turned to leave, but hesitated in the doorway—almost like he was waiting for Miles to say something, or that he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"Peter?"

The older man turned to look at him, finally meeting his gaze. His expression was pained, his brow furrowed deeply. Miles sighed, waiting for something to happen. He was growing tired of the games, all the words left unsaid.

"You wanna know what's wrong with me?" Peter's voice sounded hollow and flat. He stepped back into the room, closing the door behind him.

Miles couldn't find his voice to answer. Peter took a step closer to him so they were about an arm's reach apart.

"I'm fucked up, Miles—sick in the head." Miles knew better than to say anything, so he let Peter continue. "When I look at you, I'm supposed to see a boy, a teenager. You're not a man, Miles." Miles was frozen in place, his breath hitching with every word. "So why is it that when I'm with you, I want to—“

Miles remained frozen in place, unable to find the words to say. Peter took yet another step closer, their bodies nearly touching.

“—I want to kiss you," he whispered, putting his hand on Miles' cheek. He tilted the younger boy's face upward, brushing his lips across Miles' in a whisper of a kiss.

Miles finally made a sound as a sigh of pleasure escaped his lips.

"God, I could take you like this right now, Miles," Peter murmured against his lips.

Miles wanted to get on his knees and beg for Peter to have his way with him right there, but he knew he was treading on thin ice. If he said the wrong thing—made the wrong move—Peter would pull back again, put up his defenses. "Please," he whimpered.

Peter closed his eyes, clearly having another one of those internal battles with himself. He cupped Miles' face in his two hands, resting their foreheads together. "You're so beautiful," he breathed—so soft and quiet that Miles almost wasn't sure if Peter really said it at all. "I need you to be patient with me. I'm trying, Miles."

He placed a soft kiss on Miles' forehead, nuzzling into him as he did. And just like that, he turned to leave, closing the door behind him.

* * *

  
Miles grudgingly headed home. Peter frowned, pausing at the front steps to leave Miles with a hurried kiss. "Come back to me when you can?”

Back at his house, Miles was relieved to see his parents. It was the only time he could just feel like a normal kid, being home in his own room—listening to music, sketching, reading comics. It felt like he was transported back to a time before everything changed. Before he got bitten by the spider. 

He was sitting on his bed, sketching in his notebook. There was a knock at his bedroom door. "Yeah?"

His mom poked her head in. "Everything okay, baby?"

"Yeah," it didn't come out as convincing as he'd hoped.

She looked back into the hall before letting herself in and closing the door, leaning against it with her arms crossed. "You sure about that?" she asked, raising her eyebrows knowingly. A warm smirk spread across her lips. 

"Yeah, yeah," Miles rolled his eyes teasingly, smiling at his mom.

She walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, looking around at all the art on his walls. "It's quiet around here without you," even as she smiled, Miles could see something change in her features, a sadness in her eyes.

"I miss the quiet," he really meant it.

"What quiet? It wasn't quiet until you left!" she teased, ruffling his hair.

Miles shrugged, "yeah, maybe."

"Daddy's been worried about you." That made Miles straighten up a little. "He said you're having girl problems."

"He _would_ say that," Miles groaned. "And I'm fine—in that department," he added.

"I know he gives really bad advice," she laughed. "He really tries, though."

Miles laughed too, shaking his head.

"You can always come to me—" she said almost hesitantly, "—I mean, if you want to."

"Yeah?" Miles looked up from his notebook, closing it and tossing it aside. "I, um..." it was so easy to talk to his mom. She was warm and funny and sometimes a little bit sassy. She didn't judge Miles, the way he felt his dad always did. She actually listened.

"We don't have to talk about it," she said, looking a little hurt, but still smiling like always.

Miles wanted to, if only he could. He felt like he was carrying this secret inside for so long, and it was so heavy. For months, he watched helplessly as his own mind and body betrayed him.

Even if he told her he was gay—was he gay?—it's not like he could just tell her about the 40 year old man he'd been lusting over that, oh by the way, happened to be Spider-Man, and so was he. There was never going to be a way for his parents to truly know who he was. His mom would never really know him, and that hurt.

"I'm okay, ma," he smiled, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to reassure her. "Everything's cool."

* * *

It was becoming harder to be apart from Peter. He didn't want to seem too desperate, too eager. He bided his time, helping his parents around the house and walking around his neighborhood. It was a cold January, but the sharp air made Miles feel alive.

The next morning was Sunday, and by then he was getting anxious to see Peter again. His dad dropped him off at his school dorm, and Miles tuned him out the whole ride there.

"Miles?"

"Huh?"

"Were you listening?"

"Of course I was."

"What did I say?"

"Sorry dad, here's my stop. Love you!" he opened the door and ducked out before the patrol car even came to a full stop.

That afternoon, he lay on his top bunk in his dorm, staring at the ceiling. Ganke was giving him misguided relationship advice, and even though he meant well, Miles just wanted to be alone.

"It's called playing hard to get, total power move. He's leading you on, man."

"How do you figure?” Miles asked.

"Pulling you in and pushing you away? He's giving you mixed signals."

"Then why did he kiss me when I left?"

"I don't know—what kind of kiss was it? Was it like this?" Ganke closed his eyes and puckered his lips with a loud smack. "Or like this?" he opened his mouth, tonguing the air.

"Uh, gross dude. The first one."

"Oh, that's not good." Ganke shook his head.

Just then, Miles' phone lit up with a new text. "It's Peter, he's texting me."

Ganke stood on the bottom bunk, leaning over the railing of the top bunk where Miles was laying. "Let me see! What's it say?"

_"I have a surprise for you.”_

"Is the surprise his dick? I bet it's his dick. Classic move.”

"It's not his dick...I think,” Miles shrugged.

“Give me your phone, let me answer,” he held out his hand.

“Fuck outta here, I’m not giving you my phone,” Miles slapped it away.

“Come on, man. I’m smooth with the ladies—sorry, I keep forgetting— _and_ _dudes_.”

“Wonder Woman doesn’t count,” Miles quipped.

“Did you forget only _one_ of us has ever had a real life girlfriend—or boyfriend, sorry—and it’s me.”

“That was in third grade!”

Ganke reached out and snatched the phone out of Miles’ hands. Before Miles could stop him, Ganke jumped down, ran to the bathroom, and locked himself in.

Miles stood outside the bathroom, pounding on the door with his fist. “Ganke, come on dude. You’re gonna mess this up for me!”

After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened, and Ganke tossed the phone back into his friend’s hands. “He’ll see you at 6.”

Peter: _I have a surprise for u_  
Miles (Ganke): _Yeah...what is it?_  
Peter: _That’s uh...exactly the opposite of how surprises work._ _Can I pick u up at 6?_  
Miles (Ganke): _If you kiss me again_  
Peter: _If u stop being a tease._ _Don’t eat yet btw_  
Miles (Ganke): o _k, I’ll save some room for you_

Miles sighed, “thanks a _lot_ , man.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was a really rough day, so I unleashed all my angst on these 2. I promise sexy times are coming in chapter 11.

Peter took Miles by the hand and led him up the stairs to his apartment. Despite how natural it felt to have Peter’s hand intertwined with his own, he felt as nervous as ever. His stomach was fluttering as they reached the 3rd story apartment.

At the door, Peter fumbled around with his keys before cracking the door open. “Okay, now close your eyes,” he stood behind Miles, hands on the younger boy’s shoulders to guide him through the doorway as Miles put his hands over his eyes.

“It smells...different,” Miles said curiously as they passed through the doorway.

“Good different or bad different?”

“Clean different.”

“It was already clean before—it was just a manlier smell. Muskier.”

“That’s one word for it...”

“When you’re finished judging the smell of my home, you can open your eyes and look.”

Miles uncovered his eyes to reveal Peter’s apartment—completely transformed. It was clean, refurnished, and redecorated beyond recognition. Where there had been mismatched garage sale furniture, and sheets for curtains—now there was fresh, matching furniture and modern blinds. Where movie posters and a kid's wall calendar once hung—there were stylishly framed art prints.

He led Miles through a tour of the apartment. There was no more folding metal card table to eat at, no more milk crate nightstand, and no scratchy wool sheets from Aunt May's house. Peter swapped them for modest but stylish matching furniture, and decor better suited for a grown man's apartment than a college dormitory.

The best surprise was saved for last when Peter led him to the bedroom. It was transformed into a romantic and inviting space with decorative pillows on the bed and a small chandelier overhead, with flowers on the nightstand. The moving boxes and clothes that had been strewn about the room were gone, and the tv on the floor relocated.

Miles was floored. He hadn't said a word, just stood there, mouth agape, shaking his head in awe that Peter even had it in him to do something like this.

“What’s wrong, don’t you like it? Don’t tell me I picked the wrong colors,” Peter frowned.

Miles leapt at Peter, arms wrapping around his neck in a clumsy hug, “I’m proud of you.” He had never said those words before to anyone. He wondered if it sounded silly coming from a kid.

Peter slipped an arm around Miles’ waist, drawing him closer. He rested his chin atop Miles’ head. Miles loved the feeling of being enveloped in his embrace as Peter whispered in the younger boy’s ear, “I want to be somebody again, Miles. I want to do better.”

“You’re already somebody to me,” he whispered back into Peter’s neck, reveling in the shudder that rippled through the man’s body as he did. “I can’t believe you did all this!”

“That’s not the only thing can do with my hands,” Peter smiled into his curls.

“Yeah?” Miles’ face was flushed and he was glad it was buried in Peter’s neck.

“I can also cook. Um, sort of. I made dinner.”

* * *

The two Spider-Men sat down at Peter’s new dining table, meticulously laid for two with attractive place settings, a vase of ferns between them, and dimmed ambient lighting. 

It felt like a date—was this a date?! It was definitely a date. That made Miles more nervous than all the awkward nights together, all the fleeting kisses, the strained words between them, combined. There was nothing to hide behind. No tentative touches to fill pained silences, no kisses to interrupt the tension. 

They sat in adjacent seats at the square table, and for a few minutes, they ate in silence. Miles' stomach was fluttering, feet tapping beneath the table as an outlet for his nervous energy.

"This is really good. You didn't have to do all this for me," Miles said in earnest. Still, his heart was soaring at the thought of Peter going to such lengths for him. For him. It hardly made sense in his teenage mind—being wanted, but kept at an arm's length. Why did Peter go through all this trouble if he didn't want things to go any further? What was his endgame? There was still so much he didn't understand.

"Are you nervous?" a question Miles hadn't been expecting. He _was_ nervous. His heart was a lump in his throat. But why ask it?

He looked down at his plate, anywhere but Peter's intense hazel eyes. Beautiful eyes. "Should I be?" he felt so smooth for coming up with that.

"I am," Peter admitted. "I'm always nervous around you."

"Yeah right," Miles didn't believe him.

"I don't want to mess things up again."

Miles knew this was coming, but he didn't think it would happen so soon. The talk. The talk about how things were, what they were going to be. This was it. There was nowhere to hide.

"I don't get you, Peter."

"That makes two of us," the hint of a smirk pulled at the corner of Peter's mouth.

They ate in silence once more. The elephant in the room was a palpable tension that Miles could see on Peter's face. Were they going to dance around it forever?

"I'm just gonna say it," Miles set his fork down and took a deep breath, trying to release his nerves with a loud exhale. "Because either you don't _get_ it, or you're just in denial. I want you, Peter. And I think you want me too. Can't that just be enough?"

"It is enough!" Peter snapped. "It's always been enough. _You've_ always been enough," his hands were tightly gripping his utensils, looking like he was trying to restrain himself. The ire in Peter's brow softened a bit, and he looked at Miles wistfully. "I literally left behind my entire world for you, Miles. Can't you see that I love you? You know I can't give you what you're asking for, but can't that be enough, at least for right now?”

"It's not enough," Miles had tears clouding his eyes, like he always did. He hated how emotional he was. He wanted to show Peter he was man enough for him, but he always ended up looking like a child.

Peter's features dissolved into a soft gaze in Miles' direction. "I do want us to be together." After a moment, his eyebrows furrowed like they always did when he was thinking of the right words to say. "You're the one who doesn't get it."

"Then _tell me_. Spell it out for me because you're not making any sense!"

"You don't think I want it, too, Miles? God, you're so dense sometimes," Peter smacked his palm against his own forehead for emphasis, shaking his head. "You think this is new to me, that I haven't given it enough consideration? Because if I told you how long I've been feeling this way...you'd think I was sick. And maybe I am, but I _know_ that I can't control myself around you anymore, Miles. I didn't ever expect you to feel the same. And now that you do, this is turning into something really dangerous."

"But why? What's so wrong about it if I want you, too?"

Peter's tone was low and serious. "Because you're 16, Miles. You're a kid and I'm a man. I'm 40 years old—I could be your dad." There it was. He was just a kid. Always a kid. "I love you, but I can't give you what you want, Miles. You have your whole life ahead of you. You're going to get married someday—have a family. That's what I want for you."

"I can be whatever you want me to be. I can be a man. I don't care how old you are—we're the _same_. We're different from everyone else, Peter. Just let me prove it to you. That's all I'm asking, man. I want those things with _you_."

Peter looked taken aback by Miles' words, like he hadn't considered things that way before—like they meant something.

"Come here," something changed in his eyes just then. Miles couldn't place it. He cautiously obliged, standing up from the table and crossing the space between them—so nervous, his legs could barely hold him. Peter shifted his chair to face Miles, who was standing before him. "C'mon," Peter whispered, holding his arms out to the younger boy.

Miles didn't know what Peter wanted him to do. He took a step forward so their legs were touching, and Peter gingerly pulled the smaller boy to straddle his lap in the chair. He sat on Peter's lap, holding the chairback to steady himself. It felt so intimate that Miles was instantly aroused. He hoped that Peter would see, would feel it pressing into his belly. He wanted him to know.

Miles wanted to kiss his mentor, but he was afraid to close the space between them after everything that had happened. He still didn't know exactly where they stood, just that it was somewhere between Peter wanting to protect his innocence and wanting to rip his clothes off. Miles wanted Peter to prove that he wanted him—to pacify him with kisses and break down the invisible barrier that had grown between them. He didn't want to be the one to do it. He wanted Peter to make the first move.

Miles wondered if the man read his mind as Peter's hand softly brushed the back of Miles' neck and fingers threaded through the younger boy's curls. He closed his fingers, pulling the hair a little bit before guiding Miles' head down into a kiss. It was just their lips—Peter's brushing softly against his younger companion's as his hand tugged gently at his hair. Peter whispered against his lips, "are you nervous _now_?".

Miles smirked, "should I be?"

The older Spider-Man stood up, wrapping Miles' legs around his waist as he did so, and carried him over to the living room. He made his way to the new couch, maneuvering them so that as he sunk down into the cushion, Miles was still straddling him—just like the other night in that same spot. When their lips met again, it was hungry and wet, tongues brushing teasingly against one another. Miles was _sure_ Peter could feel it now, his cock straining to touch Peter’s belly. He leaned his body flush against Peter’s.

"Wait wait wait," Peter suddenly tossed his head back to the side, breaking the kiss and putting some distance between them as he turned away from Miles.

Miles grunted in frustration, "seriously, again?"

"I just need to say something first.”

“We’ve been over this,” Miles rolled his eyes, exhausted with the circles they were going in. He climbed off of Peter, sliding to the opposite side of the couch to put some space between them. Exasperated.

Peter took an audible breath, slow and deep, composing himself. “I’m scared, Miles.”

“Well, figure it out, then! The hell is your problem, man? You're fucked up in the head because you think you know everything, and you don't. _You're_ supposed to be the adult, remember? You're messing me up, man. You're fucking with my head...I can't do this!”

“No, it’s not—I’m not...that’s not what I meant,” Peter’s voice was low and deep, almost a whisper.

“Then _WHAT_?” Miles was still shouting in stark contrast to Peter’s tone.

“I-I don’t want you to hurt me."

That gave Miles pause. That was something new. Still, that didn’t stop him from throwing it right back at Peter.

“Oh, I get it. Kinda like that time I told you I didn’t want you because I was already seeing someone else? Oh wait, that was you,” he pulled his knees to his chest like he was trying to get as far away as humanly possibly from Peter.

“I wanted you to forget about me,” Peter sighed. “I was trying to protect you. It’s a normal coping mechanism, look it up.”

“You know what else is normal? Two people who want each other being together and not pushing each other away. You don’t want me to hurt you? In case you didn’t notice, the only one getting hurt around here is me.”

Peter paused, choosing his words carefully. His voice was soft and pensive. “I don’t want to lose you. When you’re 16...there’s so much you don’t know about yourself. You have _so_ much to learn about life, Miles. You’re a baby. You’re gonna wake up one day when you’re 20. Quarter-life crisis. When you’re 40. Mid-life crisis. Did you know there’s a quarter life crisis, Miles? Because I do. I’ve been there. If I lose you, I—"

Miles was looking at Peter differently. His eyes softened, mouth slack. He understood now. Everything suddenly changed. Peter wasn't pushing him away because he had doubts about Miles. He was pushing him away because he was afraid that Miles would grow to have doubts about _him_. Just a kid. A baby. He wasn't sure if Miles was always going to want him, if he would outgrow him. Miles understood now.

Miles unwrapped his arms from around his knees, relaxing his body as if all the tension had suddenly been released. He scooted along the couch back to Peter, laying his head in the man's lap and looking up at him. It was his turn now to be the adult. To say the things Peter needed to hear.

"We're a team, Peter. I can't do this without you. Why do you think the Collider brought you to me? I-I think we're supposed to be together."

"I mean, the Collider also brought you Porker, but I don't think—"

"Shut up," Miles laughed for the first time that evening.

"I love you, Miles," Peter's fingers stroked through the younger Spider-Man's hair. "I'm going to make things right."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like smut. Otherwise, now's your last chance to turn back.

It was the next Friday, a frosty February morning. Miles had been working on a school project with Ganke all week and hadn’t seen Peter since their date night that ended with them falling asleep cuddling on the couch with a movie.  
  
Miles’ heart fluttered every time he got a text message from Peter in class. That morning in Homeroom, Ganke came up behind Miles, chin resting on his friend’s shoulder as he strained to read the text message on his screen.  
  
“Another hot date tonight?” He took the seat behind Miles.  
  
“Miles has a girlfriend?” the guy sitting in front of Miles turned around as he said the words loud enough for the class to hear. Emilio, the class clown. He was always trying to embarrass Miles. “I thought you were screwing Ganke.”  
  
“No, he’s way out of my league,” Ganke shot back. “His boyf—“ Miles turned around and looked daggers at Ganke, who was terrible at keeping his mouth shut. Miles buried his face in his hands on the desk. _“—GIRLfriend—"_  
  
“Girlfriend...you sure bout that?" a few guys were laughing along with Emilio now. "It sounded like—"  
  
"Uh...Miles is dating a supermodel!" Ganke blurted out, trying to save face. The guys in class busted out laughing at him and turned away again.  
  
"You got no chill, dude," Miles shook his head.  
  
"Uh, sorry. So what's the plans tonight with _YOUR REALLY HOT GIRLFRIEND?_ " he said loud enough for the class to hear, winking at Miles.  
  
"There's no—why do you care, anyway? And _SHE'S_ not my _GIRLFRIEND,"_ he snapped back in a whispered shout.  
  
"I'm really emotionally invested in this, Miles. You're gonna have to give me something."  
  
"How ‘bout you? Any plans tonight with Wonder Woman?" Miles quipped. That shut Ganke up fast.  
  
Miles looked around to make sure nobody was watching before looking down at the phone in his lap to check his messages.  
  
Peter: _Done with your project yet? Are u free later?_  
Miles: _Who wants to know?_  
Peter: _Your_ _boyfriend_  
  
Boyfriend. Boyfriend...he had never used that word before. Miles' stomach was fluttering wildly. He read the word again and again. _Boyfriend_.  
  
Miles: _I don't know who you're talking about_  
  
He grinned, putting his phone back in his pocket. Boyfriend.  
  
"Huh?" Miles was transported back to reality by Ganke snapping his fingers in his face.  
  
"The bell already rang, Miles. You should really get that trance thing checked out, it's not normal."  
  
They ran to math class as the second bell rang.

* * *

  
That evening at Peter's place, the two Spider-Men were getting some training in. Aunt May had dropped by earlier to help Peter set up the corner of his bedroom with a heavy bag, some weights, ropes, and other equipment she brought from the base back at her house. Things had been quiet for a while on the Spider-Man front, but they liked to stay prepared. But mostly they just liked training together, as they'd done for the last couple of years.  
  
Miles wasn't sure who started it, but the two Spider-Men started messing around and shooting webs at one another, like a game of tag. It was a small space with no cover, but Miles had an advantage. He went invisible, walked right up to Peter, and thwipped him in the face.  
  
Peter peeled the sticky strands away. "Oh you're gonna regret that. I know where you are."  
  
"No you don't."  
  
Peter shot a web this time toward Miles' voice, but missed by a lot. He let out a frustrated groan. "My shooters must be jammed, slowed my reaction time."  
  
"Right..." Miles walked up to Peter and poked him in the belly with his finger.  
  
Peter reached out and wrapped his arms around the invisible teen before he could get away, pulling him close. "Mmm, that's kind of hot," he tried to land a kiss on Miles. He got his ear.  
  
Miles was thankful for his invisibility to hide his flushed cheeks. "W-what is?"  
  
“Just thinking about the things I could do to you while you’re invisible.” Peter had never talked like that before—he was usually too busy trying to preserve Miles’ innocence. They’d done a little bit of kissing, cuddling, and hand holding over the last couple of weeks, but nothing that ever progressed beyond those innocent gestures since that night Miles first kissed him.  
  
“What kind of...things?” blood was pulsing loudly through Miles' body.  
  
Peter ignored his question, opting instead to trail kisses from Miles’ ear, along his jaw, and finally to his lips as he felt his way there. “You’re getting good at this invisibility thing. Have you been practicing without me?”  
  
“Maybe a little,” Miles smirked as Peter muffled his words with a flurry of light kisses.  
  
"I've been thinking—"  
  
"You think too much," Miles frowned. He flickered back into Peter's view, shedding his invisibility.  
  
"—I've been _thinking_ a lot about what you said," he went on, ignoring Miles' protests. "You said...we're the _same_. We're _different_ from everyone else," he tilted Miles' chin up to look into his eyes. "I get it now. You're like me. We're the same, Miles." Miles understood. There was nothing more that needed to be said in that moment—they completely understood each other. With that, Peter leaned in to bring his lips to Miles'. It wasn't the soft fluttery kisses from before. This was ravenous, urgent, pleading—like his life depended on kissing Miles in that moment to punctuate the unspoken words between them. That they couldn't be apart. That he belonged to Miles, and Miles to him. _We're the same._  
  
Miles' knees were weak and he didn't know if they would hold him up as Peter licked at his tongue, cupping Miles' face in his hands as he deepened their kiss. Peter must have sensed the boy going slack in his arms, because he guided him backwards toward the bed until Miles felt himself falling back onto the mattress. Peter pulled him up onto the bed so his head was on the pillow. The older man lay down beside him, his upper body draped over Miles as he leaned over him to kiss him once more—biting at his lower lip, sucking at his mouth and teasing him with his tongue. After a while, he pulled back a little.  
  
The two Spider-Men lay panting, staring at one another. _Why were they stopping?_ No, he couldn't stop now. If Peter gave him another one of his speeches...  
  
"This is it for us, Miles," another speech. "There’s no going back to the way things were before. You know that, right? Once we do this, we can never go back to just being friends. If you're not sure—"  
  
"It's already too late, man. Can't you see that? There's no going back."  
  
"Then promise me—" he leaned down to kiss the boy's lips, soft and gentle and deliberate once more, "—promise you'll stay with me. Be with me."  
  
The words breathed new life into Miles. He reached his arms out for Peter, pulling him close as the larger man shifted his whole body on top of Miles' smaller frame, knowing his spider strength would support the added weight. Nothing had ever felt so perfect in his life as feeling the weight of Peter on top of him. He unsuccessfully tried to stifle a soft moan. He was nervous for Peter to see this side of him. Embarrassed of how he sounded. Not wanting to say or do the wrong thing and look childish.  
  
Peter put his lips against Miles' ear, breathing softly into it. He lay still for a moment, like he was trying to gain control of himself. Even so, Miles could feel Peter's dick straining against his hip. He shifted beneath the larger man—wanting to feel more of it—adjusting his hips so that his own erection was flush with Peter's. Even through Peter's sweatpants and Miles' gym shorts, he could feel their cocks pulsing together. They lay like that for a moment, still and silent. Soon Miles couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting upward into Peter’s, sliding the length of his dick against his partner's, the material between them creating friction.  
  
"Let's slow down," Peter whispered into Miles' ear. "Let's go slow."  
  
 _Slow down?_ This was already going at an agonizing pace for Miles, who was ready and eager to please Peter, to give himself to the man completely. "Please don't stop," Miles whimpered, fingers finding their way under the hem of Peter’s t-shirt to dig gently into the flesh there—sweaty beneath his fingers—like he was trying to keep him from going anywhere. His hips were involuntarily rocking upward into Peter’s. “Please...”  
  
“Just trust me, Miles. I’m gonna take care of you. Let me take my time with you.”  
  
Miles whimpered, frustrated and eager to release his cock from the constraints of his clothing. With a little more friction, he would come in his shorts.  
  
Peter pulled back so he was sitting up on Miles’ hips. “Sit up, let me take this off,” he helped Miles out of his t-shirt, eyes glazing over at the sight of the boy beneath him. “God, look at you, Miles,” he traced his fingers down the boy’s lightly-muscled chest, over his belly, grazing his hips. “You’re too good for me. I’m so old,” he frowned.  
  
Miles reached out, tugging at Peter’s shirt too, a pleading gesture. He needed to see his body, wanted to feel their skin touching. “Your turn,” he whispered.  
  
Peter looked down, “I-I’m not sure—“ he was self-conscious. Miles could see it in his face—embarrassment, comparing his body to Miles’.  
  
Miles would just have to give him some encouragement. His slide his fingers up the front of Peter’s shirt, fingers trailing across the soft flesh of his belly. Miles looked up at the man and moaned softly, clearly enjoying what he found there. He squeezed Peter’s belly gently, a smile teasing his lips as the older man let out a gasp of surprise, “hey!”  
  
“Please? For me?” Miles looked up with pleading eyes, and Peter finally obliged, lifting his shirt off and tossing it behind him. Miles’ lips parted, a ragged breath escaping as he looked his partner over.  
  
He had seen him shirtless enough times, when they were getting changed into their Spider-Man suits or after working out. He’d already studied the lean-muscled arms and broad chest framing the hint of a belly he’d worked so hard to be rid of but still lingered. However, in the context of his teenage hormones stripping away his self-control and a half-naked Peter straddling him on the bed—he was entranced. He had dreamt about kissing that belly, lapping Peter’s cum from it after bringing him over the edge. He had thought about this for so long, his brain couldn’t process that any of it was really happening.  
  
Miles held his arms out again, inviting Peter back to lay against his chest. Both Spider-Men were panting and eager and a little sweaty as they kissed once more, skin against skin, their hearts beating against each other’s bared chests.  
  
Miles was nervous. Peter was his first everything—first real crush, first kiss, first love—and his lack of experience was apparent. It took everything in his power not to come before Peter even touched him. His hips thrusted rhythmically at Peter, his cock trying to find that delicious friction from earlier.  
  
Peter smirked at how eager the smaller boy was beneath him. “Woah, slow down there, bud,” he teased, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Feels good, huh.”  
  
“Y-yeah,” Miles cried out. He was going to lose himself to the feeling of humping into Peter if he wasn't careful.  
  
“Let me help you, kid,” Peter teased. With that, he slid off of Miles to kneel at his side as he pulled the boy's athletic shorts down to his knees. He paused to admire the outline of Miles’ cock through his black briefs, stopping short of actually touching it.  
  
“Yes please,” Miles threw his head back on the pillow, arching his back in search of contact. He was torn between wanting this to go on forever and needing release, but if Peter would just touch him then everything in the world would be right again.  
  
“I, uh...” Peter closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was having another one of those excruciating moments of self doubt. _Not another speech. Please for the love of God, not another speech,_ Miles thought. “Is it okay if I touch you? I’ve never touched anyone besides—I mean um, I’ve never been with a guy before...or a kid. Huh, I should stop calling you that.”  
  
Miles, reached down, pulling the front waistband of his briefs down until his dick sprang out. He grabbed the base of it with his free hand, pushing it up for Peter to see.  
  
“You mean this?” Miles was achingly hard, leaking at the tip.  
  
“Holy shit, that’s—“ Miles watched through half-lidded eyes as Peter was biting his lip, trying to keep his cool. He marveled in the effect he had on his partner. “That looks...that’s really—y’know I’m starting to think maybe you’re not a kid anymore, Miles.”  
  
“You just gonna look at it?” Miles breathed out, unnerved by the agony of just how slow Peter was going.  
  
“Tell me what you want me to do,” he teased as he pulled the boy's briefs down just a bit more to his knees. He joined Miles again, laying at his side with his face was agonizingly close to Miles' cock. It was close enough for Miles to feel his breath on it.

He knew what he wanted Peter to do. He wanted to feel himself sliding through Peter's lips and shoot his load down the man's throat, but he was too shy and too inexperienced to find the words to say any of that. "Your mouth..."  
  
"What should I do with my mouth?" Peter coaxed before leaning forward to place a few teasing kisses on the head of his cock as Miles held it out for him. "This?" Miles groaned at the sight of precum glistening on the surface of Peter's lips.  
  
"Mm...more," was all Miles could articulate.  
  
"Ah, why didn't you say so?" Peter smirked, his eyes looking up at Miles alluringly. He stuck his tongue out, licking from the base where Miles' hand gripped it for him, and up the length of it one time before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Mmm, that better?"  
  
Miles was close. _Really_ close. Like cock twitching, legs shaking, arching his hips up to try and find Peter's mouth close. His raging teenage hormones would ensure this would be over faster than it started. "Suck me," were the only coherent words he choked out as he panted and groaned for some kind of relief.  
  
"What's that? Didn't catch that."  
  
"Suck it. C'mon Peter," Miles whimpered, enjoying the agony but needing release _now_. "Suck my dick."  
  
That wiped the cocky smirk off of Peter's face and shut him up. The older man wordlessly leaned in and took the length of Miles, sliding his lips over him until Miles could feel himself hitting the back of Peter's throat. He could feel Peter gag a little and back off, focusing instead on building up a steady rhythm, bobbing his head on Miles until the boy's hips were bucking to meet him each time. Peter was moaning deliciously around him until Miles' pent-up orgasm overcame him.  
  
He didn't even have time to warn Peter before exploding in his mouth. He watched in awe as the man kept sucking while he unloaded on him. Miles was screaming out, unable to control himself. It was everything he'd imagined and more, and then it was over as he lay panting loudly before Peter, stars in his eyes as his body lay satisfied and spent.  
  
Peter crawled his way up the bed to lay beside Miles on the pillow, leaning in to kiss him gently. Miles could smell himself on Peter, which was oddly comforting. He opened his eyes to look at his partner, trying to read him. Peter's eyes were half-lidded as he panted softly beside Miles, and in that moment something struck him just then, a sudden urge that overcame him. He was afraid he'd be too shy to ask, but he closed his eyes and took in a breath of air to calm his nerves.  
  
"I want you to, um—" he squeezed his eyes shut tighter, like that would somehow make things less awkward, "—I want to watch you. Would you jerk off for me?" his heart was pounding, mortified at his question. But all the lonely nights he'd fantasized about Peter—all the emotions and feelings and urges he'd grown to have for his mentor—they all started with that fateful morning in his bathroom. "I can't stop thinking about it."  
  
It was a scene that plagued his fantasies on so many lonely nights. In fact, he'd re-written the spectacle in his mind probably a hundred different ways, but none of them were ever enough to quell his curiosity. He wanted to see him do it—to watch Peter pumping into his hand, milking himself for Miles—to pacify this urge that had been eating away at him for months.  
  
"I bet you liked that," Peter whispered into Miles' ear. He sat up, bringing himself to kneel next to the younger boy. Miles propped himself up on the pillows with an arm behind his head for a better view. He needed to commit this to memory, needed to take in every detail. The outline of Peter's cock straining against his gray joggers and the sheepish grin as he slid them down to his knees. His cock standing at attention, thicker and longer than Miles'. His big hand enveloping it, stroking slowly at first before gaining momentum.  
  
"That looks good," Miles groaned, thankful that he'd already finished so he could really focus on what Peter was doing to himself.  
  
"I'm close, Miles. I don't think I can last long around you." He grinned, looking into Miles' eyes as he stroked faster, his words broken up with each ragged breath, "like that morning in your bathroom."  
  
Miles gave him some encouragement, wanting to see Peter bring himself over the edge. "C'mon, Peter—keep going. Finish for me."  
  
"Where do you want it—where do you want my cum?" he gasped, hips thrusting into each stroke.  
  
"I um—" he was too shy to say it, even though he knew what he wanted. His cheeks flushed deeply.  
  
"Ahh too late!" Peter choked out as he threw his head back and brought himself to climax, draining himself all over Miles' belly. Perfect.  
  
The two Spider-Men lay ragged and breathless, limbs intertwined and bodies slick as they curled up together until their pulses slowed and breathing steadied. Miles could barely keep his eyes open, ready for sleep to overtake him.  
  
"Miles?" Peter found Miles' smaller hand, taking it in his own and giving it a squeeze.  
  
"Not another speech," he groaned.  
  
"Just a quick one," his voice was low and soothing, "promise."  
  
"Yeah okay."  
  
"I love you. Let's be together?"  
  
"Yeah," he found Peter's hand, squeezing it back before falling asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artwork for this chapter is posted in Chapter 13.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can tell how my day was by how many words I write. Here's an extra long one for you, because Miles/Peter is my therapy.

It was the part of the night when the city finally started to settle in for the evening. Miles loved seeing the city from the rooftops this time of night. The sounds of crowds trudging through slush-covered sidewalks with animated chatter and car horns blaring over the traffic were replaced by the dull hum of the evening—storefronts closing up shop, ambient music from the restaurants and bars dotting the streets, and the occasional footsteps from the subway stairs below. Miles did some of his best thinking up here, on rooftops overlooking the nighttime skyline.  
  
Tonight was the first night they had patrolled in weeks. Miles had spent all weekend with his parents, texting plans with Peter for Sunday night. The two Spider-Men suited up and set out that cold February night in search of whatever trouble might come their way, but tonight was a quiet night.  
  
They stood on the rooftop a 3-story office space—the occupants of which had already gone home for the evening—and they waited. This was their favorite patrol spot in Midtown Manhattan. It was an office park quiet enough not to draw any unwanted attention at night after everything shuts down, but with enough action to keep them busy every now and then. Green Goblin had some kind of operation running out of a nearby abandoned warehouse, and would often send his goons to do his bidding in the neighborhood.  
  
"Should we call it a night?" Peter's breath made fog in the cold air, even through his mask.  
  
"Maybe," Miles sighed, his mouth twisting into a frown. "Guess I was hoping for some action tonight."  
  
"You can still get some action tonight," Peter's voice was dripping with suggestion, and Miles was glad that his partner couldn't see his face through his mask. Miles would be lying if he said he wasn't eager for an encore of the other night, but he was also hoping to get more real-life Spider-Man experience.  
  
Miles ignored Peter's comment. He hoped that made him seem cool and aloof, but really it was because he was too nervous to answer. "Let's just stay one more hour."  
  
"Alright, you win," Peter sat down, leaning back on a wall before Miles joined him—sitting close enough that their thighs were touching. Peter reached an arm around Mile's shoulders, drawing the boy close to his body. They sat cuddled up on the rooftop like that until Miles lost track of time in Peter's embrace.

  
"So are we really, um..." Miles rubbed at his chin while he tried to get the words out, "...boyfriends?" The word seemed hollow, juvenile. It didn't even begin to define what they had together as Peter's best friend, his student, sidekick, partner, lover. But even so, it was important to Miles to be able to lay claim to the older man in that way. He wanted it to be official. He wanted to hear him say it.  
  
"Miles," Peter turned to look at him, and even though Miles couldn't see his expression through his mask, his voice was soft and reassuring, "I want to be together. I don't even think there's a word for us, for what we have. We are so much more than that."  
  
"So, like...is that a yes, or?"  
  
"Yes Miles—we're boyfriends," Peter laughed, shaking his head. "It's a yes."  
  
"Cool, man," Miles tried to sound calm and casual, but inside he was dancing with joy. "Alright, then. Boyfriends. Cool."  
  
"And Miles?" Peter's voice sobered to a more serious tone. "I don't think we should tell anyone...just yet. Not for a while, anyway."  
  
Miles sighed, his shoulders slouching. Peter was right. It's not like he could bring the man home to his parents. It wasn't something he'd given much thought before, but now that things were getting serious, he was faced with the bitter reality that they may never have a normal relationship. People weren't going to accept a teenager with a middle-aged man. In a few years, would they even accept two grown men that were 24 years apart?  
  
"Yeah..." Miles trailed off, visibly disheartened, "a while."  
  
"It's not forever," Peter put his hand on Miles' chin, turning the boy's face toward his own. "Look at me. I know you can see me in there," he teased. "I want to get this right, Miles. It's my job to protect you, and we have to be careful. You have to trust me on this."  
  
"Yeah, alright."  
  
"Hey," Peter grabbed Miles' shoulder and gave him a little shake. "When does Ganke get back?"  
  
"Um, I don't know," Miles shrugged. "I guess tomorrow morning, Monday. Why?"  
  
"Sneak me into your dorm."  
  
"What? I don't—"  
  
"Yeah, c'mon. I'm serious." Peter had snuck into Miles' dorm plenty of times, climbing his way up the outer wall and in through his window. They weren't allowed to have outside visitors without written parental permission, but nights when Ganke went home for the weekend would often end in the two Spider-Men playing video games there until Peter passed out on the bottom bunk. The last time that happened was the bathroom incident. That realization sent a little jolt through Miles' body. If he wasn't careful, he'd start thinking about Peter recreating that moment in bed last night.  
  
"Why not your place? It's a little more, um, private." Peter went quiet. Miles could see him pinching the bridge of his nose—a gesture he often did when he was at odds with himself. An internal battle. "Peter?"  
  
"I, uh...you know what? Never mind, actually."  
  
"C'mon man, don't do that."  
  
There was another awkward pause before Peter took a deep breath. "I always had this... _fantasy—_ I guess you could call it—of sneaking into your dorm at night and—" he put his face in his hand.  
  
"And?"  
  
"—and having my way with you."  
  
"Like a stalker?"  
  
"What? No! No. Not like a—really Miles, a stalker? Okay yes, I admit it sounds a little bit like—"  
  
"—a sexual predator," Miles stood up just then, dusting his suit off with his gloved hands.  
  
"Okay, fine. Alright, it _does_ sound a _little_ tiny bit creepy now that I'm saying it out loud. But I just meant—"  
  
“Yeah okay,” Miles held his hand out to Peter in an offer to help him up. "Let's go."  
  
"What, where?"  
  
"To my dorm... _creep_ " he said the last word under his breath, smirking under his cowl.

* * *

It was just past 9 when Miles opened his dormitory window from inside as Peter scaled the outside of the building up to the third-story. He stumbled through unceremoniously, knocking over a lamp in the process.  
  
"Keep it down, man! You're gonna get us caught." Miles quickly shut the window, sealing off the drafty night.

"That's what makes it so exciting." Peter pulled off his own mask and crossed the room to where Miles stood; he wasn't wasting any time. He cupped the boy's face in his hands, hooking his fingers under Miles' mask before lifting it up slowly until just his lips were exposed. Leaning down slowly, Peter brushed their lips together softly. The sensation made Miles' body tingle.  
  
It didn't take much coaxing for Miles to kiss him back, winding his arms around Peter's waist as he melted into it. Peter was holding Miles' face in his hands, taking his time to explore his mouth. It was slow and sweet, and it didn't take long for Miles' knees to go week at the sensation. He leaned into Peter, their spandex only a thin barrier between them. Miles was only a couple inches shorter than Peter now, and their hips were flush against one another when they stood face-to-face. Miles could feel the blood rushing to his dick with each soft groan into Peter's mouth.  
  
He wanted to take things further than last night. He had still never touched Peter and he wanted to return the favor. He had spent the last few months dreaming about the way his skin would feel beneath his fingertips, the deep groans he would make, the way his brow would furrow and his forehead would sweat. He wanted to see Peter unravel at his touch.  
  
Miles moaned into Peter's mouth at the thought, and the older man took that as encouragement to go further. He pulled off Miles' mask completely, searching his eyes and returning his gaze with a hunger in his own. He wrapped his arms around Miles, rubbing circles on the small of his back, eliciting contented groans from the smaller boy. He let a hand trail lower, teasingly lingering over Miles' ass before giving it a hard squeeze.  
  
Miles let out a loud gasp, his hips involuntarily rolling against Peter's. He was fully hard now, and Miles knew Peter could feel it through the unforgivingly-thin layers of spandex. He rolled his hips again to test out the feeling, and was met with Peter's erection pressing against his own. It sent sparks through his body, like being shocked. He needed more of that.  
  
The two Spider-Men stood like that, bodies and lips pressed together, hips rhythmically grinding against one another until Miles couldn't think straight—all the blood had rushed to his cock. The friction was creating heat between them as they found a steady pace, sliding together through the impossibly-thin material of their suits. Peter's hand occasionally slipped between them to rub at the boy, squeezing his cock with encouragement. Miles was frantic and vocal, gasping and moaning into Peter's mouth. He was close and Peter knew it.  
  
"Slow down, baby. You're getting too close," Peter whispered against Miles' lips. Baby. He'd never been called that before. Just hearing that word from Peter's mouth and knowing in that moment he belonged to him was enough to send him over the edge.  
  
Miles' sexual inexperience along with his raging teenage hormones made it impossible to hold on any longer. He cried out, the sound getting caught in his throat as he pumped against Peter a few more times. He came hard, soaking the front of his suit. Peter eased him through it, rubbing his back and whispering words of encouragement. "Come for me, baby. There you go. Good boy, Miles. So good.”  
  
Miles’ hips slowed to a halt, his breath coming in loud, disjointed gasps. He collapsed against Peter’s chest so that the man had to hold him up to keep him from falling.  
  
“Maybe we should lay down,” Peter suggested.  
  
Miles climbed up the bunk bed ladder, while Peter opted to climb up the side with his sticking powers. The bed was much smaller than Peter’s—only meant to be big enough for one person. They would make it work.  
  
Peter lay on his side, pressed up against the wall. “There’s a little room,” he patted the mattress next to him, gesturing for Miles to join him. The two Spider-Men lay cuddled up, facing each other on their sides. Peter stroked Miles' hair soothingly, trailing kisses down his temple.  
  
"Doesn't take much with you, huh?" Peter laughed, punctuating his words with a kiss to Miles' cheek.

"Peter," Miles was nervous to put his feelings into words, but he had to try, "I wanna touch you."  
  
"You're touching me right now," he teased. Mile's hands were feeling Peter's chest through his Spider-Man suit. It wasn't enough.  
  
"Yeah, but I want—" he sighed, not sure if he could say the words.  
  
"Miles," Peter's voice was a whisper, but his tone was serious, "I think we should slow down...a little bit."  
  
Huh, slow down? _Slow_ _down_? Where was this coming from? "I don't think—"  
  
"Just listen, Miles. The kissing? Great, perfect. Touching? Okay, yeah. I just don't know if we should take things any _further_ than that...right now, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Right now..." Miles repeated with a dejected sigh. "Everything is 'not right _now_ '! We can't tell anyone about us, right _now_. We can't go any further, right _now_."  
  
"See, you're catching on."  
  
"No, Peter! I think it's stupid, and you know what else? I think you're being selfish!"  
  
"When you're 18, then maybe—"  
  
"No, Peter! I'm not doing that. I'm not gonna just sit here waiting 'til I'm 18 to be with you!"  
  
"I just meant—" Peter sighed, "—you're not listening. I _just_ meant...no sex until you're 18."  
  
"Oh," Miles said, feeling suddenly dumb for not understanding that's what Peter was getting at. "Oh," he repeated flatly.  
  
"Get it, now?"  
  
"Yeah," Miles nodded slowly. He got it. "Yeah, okay." He hadn't realized Peter had even _thought_ about having sex with him, and maybe that was naïve, but he didn't know that was an option Peter would even be interested in, until now.  
  
"I know it's weird to talk about it, but I just want to set clear boundaries. We can still kiss and touch each other. I don't want that to stop, Miles."  
  
"What about..." Miles trailed off, afraid to say the words.  
  
"Humping?" Peter laughed. "Yeah, we can do more of that. Gotta build up your tolerance—that was amateur hour."  
  
"No I meant, um..." he closed his eyes like that would somehow make it less awkward, "well the other night you..."  
  
" _Oh_ ," Peter seemed like he was hit with sudden realization—as if somehow he already forgot what they did in his room on Friday night. He smirked knowingly, but wasn't going to let Miles off the hook that easily. "I'm not sure if I'm following you." _Asshole_.  
  
"When you, um..." Miles' voice was shaky and low, almost a whisper. "What about when you sucked my dick?"  
  
Peter moaned softly. He was loving this. "I like hearing you say it. You're getting me really hard right now." He didn't answer the question.  
  
"But can we still..."  
  
"Tell me what you wanna do, Miles. Say it to me."  
  
"I can't," Miles choked out. "Don't make me say it."  
  
"I think you want to suck my cock."  
  
Miles' eyelashes fluttered shut and he nodded.  
  
"It's okay, Miles. You don't have to be nervous." Peter covered Miles' hand on his chest with his own. Even though Miles had grown a lot in the past 2 years, Peter's hand was still much bigger. Peter gave it a reassuring squeeze before sliding the boy's hand lower. Miles could feel through the glove of his suit as Peter slid his smaller hand over the man's belly, resting finally on his straining erection.  
  
Miles was panting, obviously turned-on by the gesture even though his dick hadn't woken back up yet. He gave Peter's cock a soft squeeze through the layers of thin fabric.  
  
"Good boy. You like that, don't you?" All Miles could do was nod again, words no longer something he was capable of. "Tell me what you like about it."  
  
It had become apparent over the last few days that Peter not only loved dirty talk, but that he wanted to hear it from Miles. No matter how shy Miles was to reciprocate, Peter coaxed it out of him. Miles could tell the older man liked being in charge, taking control. It made Miles squirm every time Peter asked him to say something sexual, and he loved the power that Peter had over him.  
  
"It feels so big," Miles whispered.  
  
"Do you want to see it?" Peter breathed the words into Miles' ear, eliciting a soft groan. Miles nodded again. He was going to touch Peter's dick. Ever since that first morning he'd seen Peter stroking it in his bathroom, he had dreamt about this moment. So many nights he'd lay awake, thinking about what it would feel like in his hand—it was bigger than his own. He thought about the delicious sounds Peter would make if he touched it. How it would feel to wrap his lips around it—what it would taste like.  
  
Peter sat up, maneuvering awkwardly around the small space to strip off his Spider-Man suit. Miles watched from the corner of his eye as he did the same, freeing himself from the fabric. Both Spider-Men tossed their suits to the floor below. Miles stopped short of removing his underwear, but watched with his mouth slack as Peter slid down his own briefs. It joined the pile of suits on the floor. Peter lay back on the bed, spread out for Miles like a work of art.  
  
Miles sat next to Peter, running his fingers down his partner's chest, grazing his belly, and stroking down the man's lightly-haired thigh. In the moonlight, Miles’ eyes adjusted to see Peter's cock resting on the man's belly. It was the first time he'd gotten a good look at it without Peter's hand wrapped around it. It was thicker, longer than his—maybe 6 or 7 inches. It was pale like his skin, the head an angry red, like it was begging Miles for release. He was eager to oblige.  
  
“Can you touch it, Miles?”  
  
Miles took it in his hand, gripping it gently at first before sliding up and down the length of it. He ran his thumb over the head—it was slick and sensitive. It felt weird touching a dick that wasn’t his own, like he didn’t know what to do with it. He jerked it a little bit faster, trying to do it the way he liked to touch himself.  
  
“That feels...mmm,” Peter was losing himself to the sensation, breaths coming in fast and frantic. Miles didn’t want to bring him to the edge just yet. He needed to go further. After a moment, he stilled his movements, reluctantly releasing Peter from his grip. Peter groaned deeply in protest.

“Peter, can I...” he hesitated for a moment, hoping Peter would give him some sort of guidance—that he would understand what Miles wanted to do.  
  
“Are you gonna suck on it?” Peter’s eyes fluttered shut at his own words, as if the anticipation was enough to overcome him.  
  
“I think so,” Miles nodded nervously.  
  
“It’s okay, Miles. Don’t be afraid.” Miles _was_ afraid, but that didn’t mean he wanted it any less. He just wanted Peter to guide him through it, reassure him, tell him it would be okay—that he was doing a good job.  
  
Peter reached down and grabbed his cock at the base, holding it out for Miles. Miles repositioned himself so he was propped up between Peter’s legs. He leaned forward slowly so his face was just inches away, never expecting to be overwhelmed by how good it smelled—a little bit sweaty and so arousing. The scent alone was enough to keep him going. He leaned in nervously, brushing his lips softly over the head.  
  
“That’s it,” Peter whispered, hissing at the contact. “It's okay baby, keep going. You've got it."  
  
Miles’ lips parted, tongue flicking out to lick at Peter, who tasted as good as he smelled. Peter’s hips were lifting off the bed, straining to find more contact. Miles was going so slow. He lapped at Peter softly, waiting for more encouragement to keep going.  
  
“You’re doing so good, Miles. Don't stop.”  
  
Miles opened his mouth, testing the waters by putting his lips around the tip. That earned him a deep groan from his partner.  
  
He took the length of it until it was hitting the back of his throat, but he gagged loudly, eyes watering as he backed off. He was embarrassed, but Peter coaxed him through it.  
  
"Good boy. Ah, that feels so good Miles. Keep going—not so deep, be careful—yeah like that."  
  
Miles built up a steady, if not shallow, rhythm until Peter's words were all replaced with deep groans, gasps, and sighs.  
  
"Miles, I'm gonna—" Peter didn't need to say the rest: Miles could already feel the man's cock twitching and spasming in his mouth. Everything happened so fast it felt unreal, like he was watching a scene in a movie. Peter took Miles' head in his hands, winding fingers through his curls. For a split second, Miles panicked—wondering if he was going to be able to swallow his partner's load, or if he would want to. He resolved to keep going, eager to please Peter and prove that he was man enough to keep up with him.  
  
Peter groaned deeply, thrusting down Miles' throat with each spurt of cum as Miles tried his best to keep sucking. He choked and gagged through it, trying to back off a little, but Peter's hands were holding him there firmly—whether intentional, he didn't know. Miles could feel Peter's cum dribbling down his chin, unable to swallow it all through each gag and cough. Before he knew it, Peter was spent: he released his grip on Miles and flopped back on the bed with a groan.

Miles' head was pounding with nerves. Did he do it right, or did he mess it up? Was Peter disappointed at how inexperienced he was? Would he regret it later, give him another one of his speeches?  
  
"Miles," Peter whispered, gesturing for the boy to lay beside him. The two Spider-Men lay side-by-side facing one another once more. Miles had his eyes shut tight, embarrassed and nervous and unable to look Peter in the eyes. The older man cupped Miles' face in his hand as his thumb grazed the boy's jaw, his mouth. Finally, he swiped it across Mile's chin, collecting what had spilled there and bringing his thumb to the boy's lips. He slipped his thumb inside, and Miles sucked on the intruding appendage.  
  
"Miles," he repeated, breathless and depleted. "You were so perfect."  
  
"Was I?" his face flushed with embarrassment. He wasn't so sure.  
  
"You are perfect," he leaned down and kissed Miles' tenderly, pulling him close.  
  


* * *

  
That kiss was the last thing Miles remembered before his school alarm went off on Monday morning.  
  
Miles sat up—confused and groggy—rubbing his eyes so they could adjust to the morning sun filtering through the window. Under the covers he was naked aside from his underwear. Peter was _definitely_ naked too, sprawled across the bunk bed, mouth open as he drooled onto the pillow. Even in that moment, Miles thought he looked beautiful.  
  
He stretched and looked around, his eyes catching on the figure at the desk in the corner. _Ganke_.  
  
"Morning, Miles," he smirked.

He would have a lot of explaining to do.


	13. Chapter 12 Artwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't sleep last night, so I made this sketch for Chapter 12. I've never done this before, so hopefully this works! This is my very first digital art I’ve ever made...sorry if it sucks. I’ll keep working at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For *ahem* legal reasons, Miles is 18 in this picture. ;)

[ ](https://i.imgur.com/aZ0FgqU.png)


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter and some art for you, enjoy!

“Peter, wake up. You’ve gotta go, it’s really late,” he shook the sleeping man urgently after covering him up with a blanket.  
  
Peter groaned, groggy and not fully awake. “Maybe if you hadn’t stayed up all night sucking my dick, I wouldn’t be so tired.”  
  
Miles froze, cringing internally. Peter clearly hadn’t registered Ganke sitting across the room. “Dude, shut up!” he whispered frantically.  
  
“I’m just playing. You know I loved it, baby. Mm, those lips...” Miles groaned as Peter dug them into a bigger hole.  
  
Ganke must have sensed Miles’ discomfort and cleared his throat loudly. “Uh, well I’ll just be going now...to class. See you there Miles...if you’re not too busy,” he winked. “Nice to see you again, Peter.”  
  
Peter’s mouth was slack as he watched Ganke leave, locking and closing the door behind him.  
  
Miles shook his head, “nice going.”  
  
“You don’t think he would tell anyone, do you?”  
  
“Ganke? Nah, we’re cool. But you’ve gotta get out of here—I have class,” Miles playfully shoved at the older man.  
  
“Uh, I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I don’t think it’s a good idea for your classmates to see Spider-Man climbing out of your window.”  
  
Miles climbed down off the bunk bed, dressing himself hastily. “Um, I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit you.”  
  
“Okay, would you rather have me climb out of your window naked, or dressed like Spider-Man?” Peter pondered, scratching his chin.  
  
“Here, Ganke should have something,” he rifled through Ganke’s dresser drawer, haphazardly tossing things on the floor as he searched.  
  
“Great,” Peter rolled his eyes, “I’ll be leaving here in a Thundercats shirt.”  
  
“Even better,” Miles tossed him a folded up t-shirt and jeans.  
  
Peter pulled the jeans on, and pulled the t-shirt down over his belly. “Really?” Peter rolled his eyes. It was him, well—dead Peter, anyway. It was a Spider-Man shirt, something from an old comic book.  
  
“Looks good on you,” Miles teased.

* * *

“Yeah, about this morning...” Miles didn’t know where he was going with this. The boy put his face in his hands. He and Ganke were sitting on a picnic table outside during a break between classes, other students and teachers just far enough out of earshot that they could speak candidly.  
  
“What was it like?” Miles was taken aback by the question, though he shouldn’t have expected anything less from Ganke.  
  
“What was _what_ like?” Miles knew what was being asked, but wasn’t sure that he wanted to answer.  
  
“Giving another dude a blowjob.”  
  
“Oh, that. It was...” he sighed, trailing off. “Why am I even telling you? But it was um, really weird. Good weird. I think I liked it.”  
  
“Did you swallow?” a group of girls huddled together chattering in hushed whispers walked by. One of them waved at Miles with a shy smile, squealing at her friends when he waved back.  
  
“Keep it down, man!” he whispered. “I guess so? I tried to.”  
  
“...And?”  
  
“There was a lot. I um—I choked a little.”  
  
“Gross, dude!”  
  
“What the hell, man? You’re the one who asked!”  
  
“Did you have sex?” Ganke asked, eager for more details.  
  
“What? No. NO. Nah there was no...no.” he stumbled over his words, trying to give his words enough finality as to end the conversation.  
  
“Bummer,” Ganke stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Miles stood to follow his friend as the two boys made their way to art class.  
  
Art class was Miles’ favorite part of the school day. His teacher allowed them the freedom to create any type of art they pleased, so long as they showed him their work on the way out the door. Miles often found himself sketching in his notebook even outside of class, so it was nice to have a dedicated time each day to focus on a creative outlet.  
  
Mr. Garcia was an older man with a serious demeanor, but encouraging and kind. He surprised Miles when, on his first week of school, Miles came back from the bathroom to find the man standing over his desk, rifling through Miles’ art notebook. He scanned the pages filled with graffiti lettering, comic book characters, and abstract doodles, his expression blank and unreadable.  
  
“This yours?” he’d asked that day, Miles’ heart pounding with embarrassment. He nodded wordlessly, as Mr. Garcia handed the notebook back to him. “This is really good stuff,” he patted Miles on the shoulder, nodding with approval. “Keep going, I think you have some really creative ideas.”  
  
Now, 2 years later he still looked forward to Mr. Garcia’s class. He had even let Miles throw some art up on the classroom wall.  
  
Today, Miles was doing a pencil sketch in his notebook. The page had been tirelessly worked over—eraser marks and deep etches in the paper marred the surface. He struggled with this one for days—scratching away with his pencil before frantically erasing in exasperation. The lines were too crooked, the proportions were wrong. He needed to get this right. He scribbled it all out and flipped to a fresh page with a sigh.  
  
He was drawing Peter. Or, he was trying to, but he couldn’t seem to get it quite right. He couldn’t capture the man’s furrowed brows, one of them often cocked as he smirked sardonically. And why was it so impossible to capture that smirk? Each time he tried, it came out too goofy or too serious. He couldn’t seem to hit the right balance.  
  
He focused instead on outlining Peter’s jaw. It came easily to him as he recalled the sharp curve, having spent enough time studying it. He traced his pencil down the page, connecting it to the curve of his neck, where just last night he had trailed wet kisses. He tapped his foot, trying to focus his energies on the present moment—pencil and paper—but his mind wandered recklessly back to the night before.  
  
Miles was stirred from his thoughts when the bell rang. The school day was over, and he watched the chaos of his classmates gathering their supplies and filing out the door until finally the loud chattering was a distant noise in the hall. He stayed behind, erasing and redrawing the curve of Peter’s bare shoulder for the fourth time when Mr. Garcia cleared his throat softly in front of him.  
  
“May I?” he asked, gesturing toward the notebook. Miles reluctantly slid it across the desk as the man looked his work over carefully. “Try sketching the proportions first before you fill in all these lines here. See?” Mr. Garcia traced his finger over the offending area. “Then you won’t have to do so much erasing.”  
  
“Thanks,” he sighed, slouching his shoulders.  
  
Mr. Garcia could sense his frustration. “Is this your own creation, or someone you know?”  
  
Miles’ heart skipped a beat. There was nobody else around, just him and his teacher. It would be so simple to say the words—nobody else would know. He longed to say them, wanted to hear the words on his lips. To know how it felt to say them aloud.  
  
“It’s my—“ he hesitated, taking a deep breath and holding it for as long as he could before releasing it. “It’s my boyfriend.”  
  
“I see,” Mr. Garcia’s face bore no reaction. “Do you have a photo you can reference for the proportions? Perhaps that would help. I could show you how to measure it.”  
  
Miles hesitated. He couldn’t show his teacher a photo, or he would know Miles was dating a 40-year-old man. It was one thing to have a boyfriend, but entirely something else for that boyfriend to be a grown man more than twice his age. Peter’s voice rang in his head, _I don't think we should tell anyone...just yet. Not for a while._  
  
“N-no...I um, I left my phone in my locker.”  
  
“Ah, well perhaps another day,” he patted Miles the shoulder. “You should catch up with your friends.”

* * *

Miles was whispering on the phone with Peter from his bed at his parents’ house one Saturday night after they had gone to sleep. The streetlights shining through the cracks in the blinds made it hard to settle his mind, and Miles often found himself calling to hear Peter’s low soothing voice late at night to lull him to sleep.  
  
Peter: Miles, shouldn’t you be sleeping?  
Miles: I hate sleeping alone, man.  
Peter: You know I’m a 10 minute walk away, right?  
Miles: You know how my dad is. Always checking on me lately ever since that night he caught me sneaking out.  
Peter: I could come to you.  
Miles: Too risky  
Peter: But I need you, Miles.  
Miles: I know  
Peter: Tell me what you would do if I were there.  
Miles: Sleep  
Peter: Smartass  
Miles: I guess I wouldn’t be wearing all these clothes...  
Peter: Oh, I like that.  
Miles: ...And neither would you.  
Peter: Who said I’m wearing clothes?  
Miles: Wow  
Peter: You know, I was touching myself when you called.  
Miles: What were you thinking about?  
Peter: How good you would look spread out on my bed for me.  
Miles: What would you do to me?  
Peter: Hey, I’m supposed to the be one asking questions here. And I would kiss you all over your body and tell you all the ways I love you.  
  
Miles liked romantic Peter. It was a Peter he hadn’t seen before, one that slowly emerged over the last few weeks as things started to feel more comfortable between them. The awkwardness and uncertainty of their relationship had dissolved into something easy and familiar. Peter fell for Miles hard. Miles could see it, from the romantic gestures to the late-night phone calls. All the arguing had been replaced with words of reassurance, the doubts paved over with plans for the future.  
  
That was romantic Peter. There was also sexually-dominant Peter, childish Peter, and Spider-Man Peter, to name a few.  
  
Miles: Tell me  
Peter: You’re everything good in this world that I could never be. I love you for how sure of yourself you are, how you won’t take no for an answer. I love your butt when you’re wearing your Spider-Man suit. I love how you love me.  
Miles: I wish I could kiss you  
Peter: Just another year and a half, and you can kiss me every day.  
Miles: Oh yeah?  
Peter: You’re moving in with me, right? I don’t want you to sleep alone anymore.  
Miles: What if you get sick of seeing me every day?  
Peter: I’m sick of _not_ seeing you every day. When I’m not with you, I—  
Miles: Hey, just come over really quick. I’ll sneak you in.  
Peter: I must be a bad influence on you. What happened to it being too risky?  
Miles: I need you right now.  
Peter: Oh yeah? What would you do if I were there?  
  
Miles was still nervous to talk this way, but it was getting easier every day.  
  
Miles: I want you to hold me...touch me.  
Peter: Touch you where?  
Miles: I um, everywhere—  
Peter: Your face?  
Miles: Yeah  
Peter: Your chest?  
Miles: Mmm  
Peter: Your cock?  
Miles: Y-yes  
Peter: You want me to stroke you, don’t you?  
Miles: Y-yes...please  
Peter: Will you be able to stay quiet?  
Miles: I’ll try  
Peter: Good boy

* * *

It was the fastest Peter had ever gotten there—6 minutes. It was late enough at night that he could risk swinging through the neighborhood without being seen. Miles pulled him through the second-story window as the man all but collapsed on him.  
  
“Miles,” Peter didn’t waste any time—his mouth was all over the boy in an instant: kissing his lips before trailing his way down Miles’ neck, teasing the soft flesh there with his tongue and teeth. Miles was eager to reciprocate the enthusiasm, groaning softly as his hands wandered over the man’s body—clawing gently at his hips, squeezing his ass, grabbing his belly. He was so hard in his pajama pants, he knew Peter could feel it pressing against his hip.  
  
Peter stopped suddenly, with a groaned protest from Miles, but didn’t hesitate long before lifting the boy’s shirt up and over his head. “Undress...now,” Peter barely seemed capable of forming complete sentences, but Miles was eager to comply. He stripped off his pajama bottoms and stood in his underwear, watching in the moonlight as Peter stripped off his own jacket and shirt, leaving nothing but his sweatpants. Miles was standing in his underwear, panting heavily as Peter looked at him with eyebrow cocked as he always did, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.  
  
Without warning, he lifted Miles up in his arms so that the smaller boy was straddling him as they stood near the window. He pressed their foreheads together, whispering to him in the moonlight. “Baby boy...my love,” he kissed Miles’ forehead before carrying him over to the bed. He practically threw the smaller boy down on the mattress. That was sexually-dominant Peter.  
  
Peter stood over the bed beside him, reaching down to slowly pull Miles’ underwear down to his ankles—leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. That excited him.  
  
Miles watched in the moonlight as Peter stripped off his own pants and underwear. The streetlights illuminated his body in the most delicious way—like he was glowing. Angelic. His cock was hard and hanging deliciously close to Miles, and the boy sat up to reach out a hand and feel the silky soft skin, lightly running his fingers along the length of it.  
  
Peter hissed through his teeth. “Shit, Miles. I’ve been thinking about this all day.” He nudged Miles to lay back on the pillow before climbing on the bed and laying on top of the smaller boy with all of his weight on Miles’ body.  
  
“W-what are you—“ this was new. They had spent weeks getting acquainted with each other’s bodies—touching, kissing, and most nights together ending with their lips around each other’s cocks—but Peter was very careful about maintaining the boundary they had set. No sex until Miles turned 18. He had repeated those words several times now, and at first, Miles was okay with that. He was inexperienced and still learning so much about himself and his own body—let alone Peter’s. What they had felt like enough—for a while.  
  
It didn’t take long for Miles to test the boundary, push the limits as far as they would go. He wanted to have sex with Peter, and although he tried to be patient, he couldn’t help but feel frustrated—desperate for more.  
  
Peter’s body weighing down on his own was intoxicating. Their bodies had never been so close before. Miles was overwhelmed with emotion and need and the urge to beg Peter to pound him into his bed. He wanted his body to belong to Peter, and until that boundary was crossed and he could give himself fully to the man, it wasn’t enough.  
  
He resolved right then and there to give himself to Peter, no matter what it took to sway the man in his favor.  
  
Peter was rocking his hips gently against Miles so their erections were sliding together rhythmically. Miles had never felt anything so agonizingly perfect. He rocked his hips upward to meet Peter’s thrusts so that they were frotting against one another, but the contact wasn’t enough. It was painfully frustrating.  
  
“Please, Peter,” Miles hissed, his body straining to find more contact. Torture.  
  
Miles knew Peter’s defenses were weak. He had seen it firsthand, the way Peter’s body responded to him, the way the man would unravel at the sound of Miles voice begging him. Peter was counting on Miles to be a good boy and follow his lead. What he wasn’t expecting was for Miles to lead him astray, to tempt him past his limits.  
  
Miles didn’t want to be good.  
  
_Just put it in, I won’t tell anyone._ That’s what he wanted to say.  
  
“Please...” he whimpered again. There were so many words left unsaid. _Please use my body. Fill me up. Make me yours_. “Please, Peter,” a pathetic plea was all he could choke out.  
  
“It’s okay Miles, I’m gonna take care of you,” Peter whispered into his ear.  
  
It would never be enough.  
  
“Peter—“  
  
“Tell me what you need baby.”  
  
“I-I...need you...need you inside me.”  
  
Peter stopped moving, his hips coming to an agonizing halt.  
  
“Miles, I...what?”  
  
Miles could play it off like Peter misheard him, backpedal and say the right thing. But no, he wouldn’t. He doubled down, looking in the man’s eyes as he did so. His voice was steadier, more confident this time.  
  
“I need you inside me.”  
  
Peter squeezed his eyes shut tight, his brows furrowing deeply as he did.  
  
“Don’t do this, Miles.”  
  
“You don’t want me, Peter?”  
  
“Don’t be like that.”  
  
“Be like what? I’m trying to love you and you keep pushing me away!” he forced his voice to a whisper, even though it was cracking.  
  
“You know what?” Peter sighed, climbing off of Miles. The weight and warmth leaving him was almost painful. “I can see what’s happening here. I’ve been pushing you too far, too fast. It’s too much. You’re not ready.”  
  
“You’re not even making sense! I want this, Peter!” his whispering became more frantic. Miles was sitting up now, the blanket wrapped around his waist. Peter was standing now, pulling his pants back on. The space between them made his heart ache.  
  
“You aren’t ready, Miles! You’re 16! You should be...kissing girls your age. Not...letting some 40 year old man molest you. You should—“  
  
“I WANT YOU TO!” Peter reached out to cup his hand over Miles’ mouth, shushing him. He had raised his voice too loud. He softened it back to a whisper, “don’t tell me what I should do.”  
  
“We’re moving too fast, Miles. This is my fault—I’m the one to blame.”  
  
“It ain’t even like that, man. Please,” Miles was pleading now, his eyes filling with burning tears.  
  
Peter hesitated, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was choosing his words carefully, at odds with himself once again. Miles recognized that look. “I don’t...think we should be together...physically, right now,” the words came out slowly, but pierced into Miles just the same.  
  
The sound of a door opening down the hall made both Spider-Men freeze. Someone was coming.  
  
“Yeah, well maybe we’re just not meant to be together at all,” he hissed at Peter, the words like a punch to his gut even though they came from his own mouth. They weren’t true, which made it all the more painful as he watched Peter’s brows soften into something unreadable.  
  
There was a knock at the door as Peter slipped out into the night.  



	15. Chapter 13 Artwork

[ ](https://i.imgur.com/OgA8uRn.png)


	16. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A peace offering for Chapter 13. Remember that part in the warnings about underage sex? Yeah...

When Miles woke up on Sunday morning, the weight of the world could have crushed him.  
  
The only person in the world he wanted to see was the one person he couldn’t face. Miles fucked up, and he knew it. He’d pushed Peter too far, toeing the line Peter had so-carefully drawn between them before crossing it altogether.  
  
He wished he could take back the things he’d said. _Maybe we’re just not meant to be together at all._  
  
He was disgusted with himself, ashamed to face Peter, and worst of all he had torn down the trust they had worked so hard to build. He had to make it right somehow.  
  
He tried to put on a weak smile as he ate breakfast with his parents.  
  
“There was a lot of noise coming from your room last night, Miles. Were you talking to someone?” his dad eyed him suspiciously.  
  
“Sorry, I must’ve had the TV too loud,” he looked away from his dad. He was a bad liar—it always showed in his face.  
  
“Hmm,” his dad frowned, not looking convinced.  
  
“May I be excused? I need to head back and help Ganke finish his art project” more lies.  
  
“Yeah alright.”

Miles took the city bus to Queens, hoodie pulled up around his face to shield himself from the February chill.  
  
It seemed like so long ago, but he used to ride this very bus every weekend to see Peter. Those were the days before everything changed—when he would catch the bus to Aunt May’s house, his bag stuffed with snacks and video games, wondering what kind of Spider-Man training they’d do that evening. Things seemed so simple then, until everything changed.  
  
He’d done some of his best thinking on that bus, about life and about Peter. He was probably sitting in this same seat months ago when he realized he might be gay, when he admitted to himself that he loved his mentor. And now here he sat, wondering his place in the world once again.  
  
Miles had texted Aunt May that he needed to talk, and she was pleased to hear from him—said she’d like the company.  
  
At Aunt May’s house, things felt comforting and familiar. He sat on the old couch by the window—the same one he’d slept on all those nights before Peter insisted they share a bed to stay warm. The same clock hung over the mantle, and the same frilly curtains decked every window. It was comforting to know that even with all the chaos and uncertainty in Miles’ life, some things never changed.  
  
“You look tired,” May sat back on the armchair across from Miles, watching him over her coffee mug.  
  
“I feel like it,” he sighed with a weak smile.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” she raised an eyebrow curiously, and it reminded him of Peter. It was striking how similar their features were, even though Peter was from another dimension.  
  
“No,” he laughed, shaking his head, “but I guess I will anyway.”  
  
“Do your worst,” it was a phrase she used often, but it stung a little knowing just how bad it was going to get.  
  
“You might regret saying that,” he sighed.  
  
“Miles, look at me. How old do you think I am?”  
  
“Uh, is that a trick question?” Aunt May laughed loudly, and the sound relaxed Miles.  
  
“My point is,” she continued, “I’ve been around a long time and I know a thing or two. Now I may not be your mom, but I’ve raised a teenage boy and I can assure you whatever it is, I’ve seen it all.”  
  
“Not this,” it was almost a whisper as Miles looked down at his hands. He was ashamed to put this burden on Aunt May—she didn’t deserve the pain he would surely cause her, but he had no choice.  
  
Who else could he talk to, his mom? No, he’d break her heart and his dad would hear about it too. And then what, get kicked out of the house? Or worse, forbidden from seeing Peter at all?  
  
“Miles, please,” Aunt May’s voice was sympathetic and soothing. “ I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”  
  
Miles was tapping his foot uncontrollably on the floor, overcome with nerves. What could he say? _I’m in love with Peter and I can’t stop fucking things up?_  
  
“Did you have a fight with Peter?”  
  
Miles looked up at her through his lashes, his eyes stinging with tears. It was no secret that he was sensitive, cried easily...but it didn’t make it any less humiliating. He nodded, sniffling loudly as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.  
  
“Oh honey,” she got up from the armchair and made her way across the room to sit beside the boy. She wrapped her arm around Miles’ shoulders in a comforting gesture, and Miles melted into the feeling of being fussed over. It reminded him of his mom. He sobbed into his hands, unable to say anything at all through his cries. And even if he could, he didn’t have the right words to say. Aunt May gave him the space to cry without passing judgment as she patted his back. “Let it out.”  
  
She didn’t even know the half of it.  
  
Miles composed himself after what felt like a long while, and it felt good to get it out of his system.  
  
“Me and Peter...” he couldn’t finish the thought, frozen in fear of bringing the words to life, making them real.  
  
“He cares so much about you, Miles.”  
  
Miles closed his eyes shut tight, hoping to dull the shock of saying the words aloud. “Me and Peter are...I mean we’re, um...” he sighed, looking down at his hands once more. “I can’t say it when you’re right here.”  
  
“Well don’t let me stop you,” she stood to make her way back over to the armchair, her eyes studying Miles carefully over her cup of coffee once more.  
  
“We’re...together,” he squeezed his eyes shut again, wishing he could disappear.  
  
“What does that mean—‘ _together_ ’?” she didn’t sound shocked or angry, just confused—as if she weren’t understanding.  
  
“We’re together, like...we’re in love. Like boyfriends or whatever.”  
  
“I’m gonna need something a little stronger than coffee,” Aunt May’s brow was furrowed sharply, like she was deep in thought. He had seen that same expression on Peter all the time.  
  
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”  
  
Aunt May straightened up in her chair, composing herself as she chose her words carefully. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she sighed. “What’s done is done. Now I’m not saying I think it’s right, but—“  
  
“Look, I know it’s wrong, okay?” Miles was finding his voice again. “But me and Peter, we’re...the same. We both—“  
  
“—You both carry the weight of the world on your shoulders,” she sighed, looking at Miles with what he hoped was sympathy, understanding.  
  
Miles nodded.  
  
“You both had to grow up so fast,” her voice was calm and soothing. “Stuck somewhere between clinging to your lost childhood, and never really learning how to be an adult. That’s Peter,” she sighed.  
  
“That explains a lot.”  
  
“My Peter was your age when he got the bite,” her eyes looked wistful and sad. “It changed him, and I’m not talking about climbing up walls.”  
  
Miles listened intently, not knowing the words to say.  
  
“He grew up so fast, my Peter. I worried about him. I think Mary Jane kept him grounded to reality,” Miles could see her eying the framed photo of her nephew on the wall. “But he wasn’t the same boy.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Miles felt foolish, like a child butting in on an adult conversation he was too young to understand.  
  
“I’m not going to pretend I approve,” Aunt May looked directly at Miles, her words stern but her expression soft, “but I think I might understand a little.”  
  
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Miles really was sorry. He never wanted to put this burden on Aunt May. He was grateful that she was still here, listening, trying to understand. She could have just as easily kicked him out the front door.  
  
“How long have you—“ she winced at her own words, “no, I don’t want to know.”  
  
“So you’re not mad?”  
  
“It’s not my place to be mad. I’m not your mom, Miles. Although I gather she won’t go so easy on you.”  
  
“I can’t ever tell her,” Miles shook his head. “I can’t tell anyone. If Peter even knew I was here—“  
  
“I’ll worry about Peter.”  
  
“I really love him,” it felt good to say the words out loud, like a secret he’d be carrying for so long finally being set free. “But I keep messing things up.”  
  
“Love takes a lot of work, Miles. You’re so young—you have your whole life ahead of you to get it right. What you want now might not be what you want in five, ten, even fifteen years from now.”  
  
“You sound like Peter.”  
  
“Peter said that? Huh,” she looked surprised.  
  
“He told me to forget about him—that it wasn’t right for us to be together.”  
  
“He’s smarter than I thought.”  
  
“But he realized something.”  
  
Aunt May crossed her arms, looking at Miles skeptically.  
  
“It’s like I said. He realized we’re the same—that there’s a reason we found each other.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure there’s a reason you found each other,” she frowned, “but I’m not sure it was for this.” She looked at Miles, studying him carefully. “Have you thought about the future?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“What are you going to do if things don’t work out? Can you really afford to lose him as a friend? As a partner?”  
  
“Oh, that. Yeah...I’ve thought about that,” he rubbed his neck, looking away. “I don’t know if Peter has.”  
  
“Communication is so important in a relationship, Miles. You have to talk about these things.”  
  
“I know, it’s just...Peter thinks I’m moving too fast.”  
  
Aunt May looked taken aback, like she’d heard too much.  
  
“I mean, we talked a little bit about moving in together. I don’t think he’s ready to talk about the rest.”  
  
“I don’t think I want to know what ‘the rest’ is.”  
  
“Like, I don’t know. Getting married, or um...whatever it is guys do together.”  
  
“I should really get started on that glass of wine,” she sighed, standing to head to the kitchen. “You’re 16!” she shouted from the other room.  
  
“And a half!” Miles shouted back, smirking to himself.  
  
Aunt May emerged from the kitchen, a large glass of red wine in hand as she took her seat at the armchair again. “You’re 16,” she said quietly now. “Don’t get so caught up in thinking about the future that you lose sight of today.”  
  
It was so hard to keep track of things. Think about the future, but not too much. You have your whole life ahead of you, but don’t screw this up.  
  
“Thanks, Aunt May,” he sighed with a weak smile. “I have a lot to think about.”  
  
“Hey,” she looked at him with an encouraging smile, “you’re a good kid. If Peter does anything that makes you uncomfortable—“  
  
“I know, I know.”

* * *

Miles stood on the stoop of Peter’s apartment just after dinner that evening. It was freezing cold, and he shoved his hands in his pockets as he waited. He had already buzzed up twice with no response. Maybe Peter wasn’t home.  
  
Miles turned to leave when a familiar voice came through on the intercom. “Door’s open.” He listened for the automatic click of the lock before letting himself inside.  
  
His footsteps echoing loudly through the halls as he made his way up the wooden stairs to the third story only served to heighten his nerves.  
  
He was going to apologize to Peter, and he wasn’t too proud to beg for his forgiveness. Even if Peter didn’t want a physical relationship with him, he still needed his love. He wasn’t going to mess this up anymore. He had to prove to everyone that he was mature enough to be in a relationship with Peter—most of all, to himself.  
  
When Peter opened the door, his eyes were red with dark circles framing them. He’d been crying. That surprised Miles.  
  
“Can I come in?” Peter wordlessly gestured him inside.  
  
Miles left his boots at the door—soggy from the wet slushy snow on the ground—and hung his coat up before standing in the doorway awkwardly. He wasn’t sure if his invitation to come inside extended beyond the doorway, or if Peter was expecting him to stay.  
  
It didn’t take long for Miles to realize he’d be doing all the talking. Peter stood there with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall.  
  
“Can we talk?”  
  
Peter shrugged, nodding cautiously.  
  
“Can we go somewhere comfortable?”  
  
Miles was surprised when Peter walked him past the living room and into the bedroom. Sure, it was more comfortable than the couch, but was it a leap of faith to assume they’d be doing more than just talking on Peter’s bed?  
  
Peter sat down on the bed, leaning back to prop himself up on the pillows. Would it be too forward for Miles to sit on the bed beside him? Should he sit in the chair on the opposite wall? He settled for sitting on the end of the bed with his legs crossed, a safe distance between them.  
  
Where to begin? Miles was in over his head. He was a teenager dating an adult, which means he had adult relationship problems he was ill equipped to handle, unprepared for. Not to mention, he was never good at talking about his feelings.  
  
“Peter,” he tried to make his voice soft and soothing, just like Aunt May did for him. “I’m so sorry.” He looked up at his partner for some kind of reaction, and was surprised once more to see Peter holding back tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Peter cry, if ever. The man didn’t exactly express emotion in a healthy way—in contrast to Miles’ frequent emotional outpourings.  
  
Peter looked up, peering straight into Miles’ eyes with his own tear-streaked gaze. Miles could tell he was trying his best not to let them spill—to keep it together, to be the adult. He said nothing.  
  
“I shouldn’t have pushed you to do something you didn’t want,” Miles continued with uncertainty. “It wasn’t right for me to ask you.”  
  
Peter spoke up for the first time since Miles arrived, and the sound nearly startled him. “If it’s so wrong, then why did I want it, too?” he sniffled loudly.  
  
Miles wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a hypothetical question, so he waited for Peter to continue.  
  
“It’s getting so hard to control myself around you, Miles. I’m afraid I won’t be able to anymore.”  
  
Miles wasn’t sure of the right words to say. If he said the wrong ones, he would push Peter away even further. “You don’t have to control yourself around me. I don’t want you to. We can just do what you’re comfortable with.”  
  
“You don’t understand, Miles.”  
  
“Then tell me.”  
  
“I don’t want to hurt you...physically.”  
  
“You won’t, Peter.”  
  
“I mean if we...have sex.”  
  
“Oh,” a moment of realization dawned on Miles. “You mean you’ve thought about it, too?”

Peter laughed sharply, sarcastically, in an odd juxtaposition to the heavy mood hanging over them. “You’re so innocent, Miles,” his voice was almost a whisper, low and deep. It did something to Miles, excited him, aroused him. He felt wrong for his body reacting that way in Peter’s moment of vulnerability. “You think I don’t want you? That I wouldn’t take the first chance to pound your body into this bed if I knew it wasn’t so wrong? That I haven’t dreamt about it, all the different ways I’d have you?”  
  
Miles was speechless.  
  
“Miles, do you love me? Because if you don’t, I can’t do this anymore. I swear, I’ll leave right now and you’ll never see me again, if that’s what you want,” Peter’s gaze was burning with intensity, brows furrowed and tears clouding his eyes. “Tell me.”  
  
Miles made his way over to Peter, needing to be closer. To show him that he meant it. He sat down beside him and took Peter’s face in his hands, turning the man’s head to face him. His hands were shaking nervously. He had to get this right.  
  
“I love you, Peter. I never meant any of those things I said. If we can’t be together, I don’t know what I’d do. I love you.”  
  
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”  
  
“I mean it, Peter. I want to be with you,” he bit his lip to stop himself from saying too much, remembering Aunt May’s words. _Don’t get so caught up in thinking about the future that you lose sight of today._ _No_ , he thought, she was wrong. She didn’t know what he and Peter had together. Nobody could ever understand. “I want to love you for the rest of my life. I don’t care who knows it, or if it isn’t right. I love you.”  
  
Peter leaned in, bringing their faces close together before landing a wet kiss on Miles’ lips. “Then let me fuck you,” he breathed, barely a whisper.  
  
“Peter, I...you don’t have to do this,” Miles whispered back.  
  
“I mean it. I want this, Miles. And I want you. Stay with me.”  
  
“I will,” Miles kissed him back, leaning in close, taking in the feeling of that moment. He wished he could freeze time and stay in it forever.  
  
Peter was ready to take things further as he gently laid Miles back on the bed, taking charge once again. “Whatever I do or say, don't let me stop. Do you understand?” Miles nodded, dizzy with nerves and excitement and emotion. “Don’t let me change my mind.”  
  
Peter showered the boy with more kisses—soft and teasing ones on his lips, wet and eager ones trailing his neck, until Peter reached the collar of his t-shirt. “Come here baby, let me take this off.” Peter lifted the restricting garment up and over Miles’ head, revealing smooth, bare skin. He helped the boy back onto the pillows, making sure he was comfortable—taking care of him. He bit Miles’ shoulder gently before kissing his way across Miles’ chest. “You’re delicious,” he groaned.  
  
Miles tried his best to lay still as Peter explored his body, winding his fingers through his partner’s hair for encouragement. He hissed through his teeth as Peter lapped at his belly, kissing and nibbling at the soft flesh there. Peter’s mouth on his skin put him at ease, but he was scared for what was to come.  
  
Would he know what to do? He had seen two men together, when his curiosity overcame him in the early days of questioning his sexuality. He had looked up gay porn on his phone—needed to know what kind of feelings it might stir within him: would he be aroused? Would he want to try it? The first time, he didn’t like it—it felt awkward and invasive to watch two guys together in such a private act. But he couldn’t get it out his head, until he realized he was envisioning himself in the scene with Peter. After that, he watched it again, and again—partly to satisfy his curiosity, partly to study the act—but mostly because he wanted to have that with Peter.  
  
He was familiar with the basic logistics, and he knew that it could be painful for him—because he would bottom for Peter. He wanted Peter to be the adult, be the man for him. He knew that Peter liked to be in charge, and he was eager to oblige. But as much as it excited him—overwhelmed him with anticipation—it frightened him. Peter was equally inexperienced with male relationships, but he wasn’t the one in a position of vulnerability. He hoped that Peter would know what to do.  
  
Miles was so deep in his thoughts and lost to the feeling of Peter’s mouth all over his body that it startled him to feel the man’s lips around his cock. He opened his eyes, gasping at the sensation. When had Peter undressed him? Peter looked up at him, Miles’ cock deep in his throat, seeking approval. Miles gave it freely—groaning deeply, gripping Peter’s hair a little bit harder. He was too good at this. It never took long for Peter to bring him to the edge. He gripped the man’s hair harder—pulling his head off his cock and lamenting the lost sensation.  
  
“Ow, easy,” Peter smirked, “you’re gonna rip my hair out.”  
  
“You’re getting me too close,” Miles grinned sheepishly.  
  
The mood in the air shifted just then, like they both knew what was coming—both Spider-Men afraid to take the plunge and cross the point of no return. Was Peter just as nervous as he was? Did he know what to do?  
  
“Miles, are you sure?” Miles nodded cautiously. He would never really be ready, but he wanted it more than anything. He trusted Peter, and he was ready to give himself completely to him.

Peter sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Miles’ lips parted, breaths coming in shallow uneven as he gazed upon Peter. He was so perfect in that moment—swollen lips and crazy hair, smooth chest and just a hint of hair on his belly. Miles couldn’t believe it was all for him, that Peter would give himself to Miles so freely. He watched intently as Peter slipped off his own pants and underwear, biting his lip to stifle a moan at the sight. Miles felt inadequate in his presence. Peter was all man—muscular body, legs covered with just the right amount of hair, thick cock, big masculine hands. Miles felt so childlike in his presence—skinny legs, smaller frame, a little bony in all the wrong places.  
  
Miles was relieved to see Peter reach over and pull a bottle of lube out of his nightstand, placing it next to the pillow. Had he been planning this all along? Did he know what he was doing?  
  
Peter crawled his way back up to the pillows to lay beside Miles, leaning in to steal another kiss. He lingered there, brushing their lips together softly. “Look at you,” he whispered. “Are you really mine?” How the man could look at Miles and desire him the same way he wanted Peter was beyond him. Peter saw more in Miles than he could ever see in himself, never missing an opportunity to tell the boy how much he adored him. His heart swelled with emotion and desire as he kissed Peter back, hoping that his lips would somehow convey just how much he loved him in that moment.  
  
“All yours, Peter,” he whispered against the man’s lips. He must have said the right thing, as Peter whimpered into his mouth at the sentiment. Peter shifted his body, rolling over to lay on top of Miles and propping himself up on his elbows. Their naked bodies lay flush against each other, Miles’ skin tingling at the sensation. His mind flashed back to last night in his room—Peter laying on top of him just like this. He’d said the wrong words that night—too eager, too soon. Miles froze, wondering if Peter would change his mind, run away again.  
  
He could feel Peter’s hard cock between them, knew he wanted it. Miles wanted it too. He was ready.

Peter brought their lips together once more, kissing him slowly and deliberately. Was he stalling for time? He lingered there a while as his hips rocked gently against Miles’—their cocks sliding against one another. Everything was quiet, save for the sound of their breathing and the occasional hum of pleasure.  
  
“Are you scared?” Peter broke the silence, punctuating his words with a gentle kiss before resting his forehead against Miles’.  
  
“A little...” their hips were still rocking against each other as they spoke, neither of them able to stop.  
  
“I think it might hurt a bit,” Peter whispered against his lips. “Just tell me if I should stop.” Miles nodded.  
  
“Do you know what you’re doing?” his voice was shaky, uncertain.  
  
“No,” Peter laughed, “but I did some research.” Miles’ cheeks flushed, thinking about his own research. How much did Peter know? How long had he been preparing for this?

Peter sat up again. He climbed off of Miles, sitting beside him on the bed. Miles’ cock was aching to be touched, but he wanted this to last a while. He wanted to hold onto this moment.

Peter nudged the boy’s legs open, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He was embarrassed for Peter to see him like this, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. He wanted to will himself to disappear, but he gripped the covers in his fists, trying to stay focused on the present moment.  
  
“Woah, you alright, buddy?” Miles opened an eye to see Peter’s eyebrow cocked curiously.  
  
“I mean, I think so?”  
  
“You started disappearing for a second, there.” Miles couldn’t help but laugh nervously, releasing some of his tension. Peter laughed too, and things felt more familiar between them in that moment. “Stay with me,” Peter smirked as he popped open the bottle of lube, squirting some into his hand.  
  
“No promises,” Miles closed his eyes again, trying to relax.  
  
“Okay, don’t freak out,” Peter’s finger was cold as it entered Miles’ opening, and he winced at the contact.  
  
“Did that hurt?”  
  
“No, it was cold!” Miles hissed.  
  
“Okay, just relax,” Peter slid the offending finger in a little deeper, and Miles winced loudly again.  
  
“Still cold?”  
  
“No, that one hurt.”  
  
“You’re doing so good, Miles.” Peter’s voice was soothing and reassuring, keeping him tethered to reality. He gasped as the man slowly slid his finger in and out, whispering softly to him with each motion. “Good boy. That’s it, baby. Just stay with me.”  
  
It was uncomfortable as Peter added another finger, but not painfully so. He worked his way up to a steady rhythm, sliding his 2 fingers out nearly all the way before pushing them in deeply.  
  
Miles was writhing, gasping, panting. It didn’t take too long before he was ready for more.  
  
“I-I think I’m ready.”  
  
Peter pulled his fingers out and the sensation made Miles gasp. He picked up the lube again, squeezing it into his palm before working it over his cock. Miles watched through half-lidded eyes as Peter thrusted into his hand beside him—the lube making slick, squishy sounds with each pump of his fist.  
  
“Tell me what you want Miles. I need to hear you say it.”  
  
“I-I want you inside me,” the last time he said those words, Peter left him. Would he run away again? “Please fuck me, Peter.”  
  
Peter wasn’t going anywhere this time. He opened Miles’ legs a little wider, “maybe a little more,” he furrowed his brow in concentration, squirting more lube onto his fingers before sliding them over Miles’ opening—dipping two fingers in and removing them quickly. Miles hissed at the loss of contact.  
  
Peter climbed on top of Miles once more, positioning his cock at the boy’s entrance and rubbing the head over the slick surface.  
  
He pressed against Miles until the opening gave way, Miles all but screaming at the intrusion.  
  
Peter wiped his hands on the covers before positioning them on either side of Miles’ head, gripping the pillow beneath him. He allowed all of his weight to settle on Miles’ body, lowering himself to his elbows. Miles raised his legs a little, in search of a more comfortable position.  
  
“Should I keep going, baby?”  
  
“Ahh,” he winced. “I think so.”  
  
Peter pushed in a little further. The pressure was intense and uncomfortable. Miles had never felt so vulnerable as he did in that moment, legs splayed open for his partner as the man plunged deeper into his body.  
  
“Do you think you can take all of it?” Peter whispered into his ear, punctuating his words with a kiss. The man’s breath on his ear made his hair stand on end. It was a nice distraction from the pain.  
  
“No,” he bit his lip. Everything was so intense in that moment. The pain and emotion and need overwhelmed him as his eyes burned with tears. He wrapped his arms and legs around Peter’s body, clinging tightly to him as if it would keep him from losing himself to it all.  
  
“Should we stop?”  
  
“No, let’s keep going,” Miles wanted to please Peter, wanted the man to enjoy himself enough that they might do this again.  
  
Peter buried his face into the crook of Miles’ neck as he pulled out almost all the way, and slid his length back in—not quite all the way, but enough to elicit a choked cry from Miles. It was agonizingly slow and gentle, and even though it burned with a strange and unfamiliar pressure, Peter was taking such good care of him. He hadn’t quite built himself up to a rhythm, but timed his motions with Miles’ reactions.  
  
“You feel really big inside me,” Miles choked out, his breath hitching.  
  
“Shit, I love hearing you talk like that. Say something else. Tell me what you want me to do.”  
  
“Give me a little more, I can take it,” Miles whispered, feeling his cheeks flush. Peter groaned deeply as he pushed in further, thrusting more rhythmically, losing control.  
  
The burning pressure and pain started to give way to an unfamiliar pleasure building up inside of him as Peter went in deeper. The pain was still there—but waves of pleasure dulled the worst of it. He had never felt anything like it before. His legs started shake and he placed his feet on the bed, seeking purchase.  
  
Miles needed more of that feeling, cried out for it, lifted his hips to meet Peter’s thrusts in search of it.  
  
“Stop moving, hold still.”  
  
“I can’t, it—it feels really good,” he whimpered into Peter’s hair.  
  
“Fuck Miles, hold still or I’m not gonna be able to stop myself from pounding you into this bed,” Peter’s voice came in breathy gasps as he pumped faster into Miles.  
  
“I want you to!” Miles cried out.  
  
“Tell me, baby.”  
  
“I...um. Peter, I...” Miles was losing himself, barely capable of forming a complete thought—let alone saying it aloud.  
  
“Tell me to pound you with this dick. Tell me how bad you need it,” he had never seen this side of Peter, powerful and aggressive. It was perfect. “Beg me for this cock.”  
  
“P-please...fuck me harder, Peter,” Miles cried out. “I need more. Please.”  
  
“Yes baby, I’m so close. Talk to me.”  
  
“I...I want you to bust inside of me, I wanna feel you come.”  
  
“More,” it wasn’t a request, it was a command.  
  
It wasn’t easy for Miles to speak this way. He felt childish—afraid of sounding foolish, of saying the wrong things. But Peter was eating it up like it was the hottest thing he’d ever heard, and that gave him the nerve to keep going.  
  
“I want you to fill me up. Please, Peter.”  
  
“Oh, I’m gonna fill you up,” He got up a little, supporting himself with his hands on each side of Miles’ head so he could look down at his partner. His arms supported his weight as he starting pounding harder, rhythmically, frantically. His sweat was dripping down his face onto Miles. “I’m gonna fill that ass up so good. I bet you like that.”  
  
With a few more thrusts, Peter was crying out, screaming Miles’ name as he drained himself into the boy’s body. He spit into his hand and grabbed Miles’ dick, desperately working his fist over the flesh, eliciting cries from the boy beneath him. Miles gasped as his neglected cock found the contact it so desperately needed.  
  
Peter was panting and sighing, his body spent from all the work he’d just done—yet he focused all of his attention on bringing Miles to the edge, biting his lip with determination. It didn’t take more than a minute for Miles to find release, spilling into Peter’s hand with a loud cry as he came.  
  
Peter collapsed onto him, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding wildly, breaths coming in bursts. Miles’ body was wracked with aftershocks of pleasure and pain as Peter slowly slid out of him. The feeling of emptiness that followed was equal parts discomfort and relief, but he was content to lay there forever if it meant the moment would never end.  
  
“I don’t think I can get up,” Miles whispered into Peter’s neck after a comfortable silence fell between them. “Can I stay here tonight?”  
  
“Stay with me forever.”


	17. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavy on the smut. If you’re NOT into that, you can skip this chapter without missing any important plot development. If you ARE into that, come on in. You can check the tags to make sure you know what you’re getting into—I added a few to accommodate this chapter.
> 
> Now that these two finally got together, there will be a good mix of smut and plot development too. This is just an idea I couldn’t get out of my head last night, so that’s where I’m at with this. This story isn’t ending yet, mostly because I’m having too much fun with it. Lots more to come.
> 
> As always, let me know if there’s anything specific you’d like to see in the story—or if there’s a certain scene you’d like me to draw. And as always, thanks for reading!

It was patrol night, and Peter and Miles were on a quiet rooftop in Brooklyn. Patrolling had become something of a formality lately—a Spider-Man obligation that never led to catching actual villains. Miles knew Peter had grown tired of it. Their targets these days were small-time criminals and stopping crimes in progress on the streets below. Or as Peter called it, free labor for the PDNY. Yesterday evening they stopped a hit-and-run driver who had mowed through a group of pedestrians in Times Square. They were able to swing through the alleyways and between buildings faster than the cops could navigate their way through rush-hour traffic. Peter complained he was “getting too old for this shit” the entire trek back to Brooklyn. When he kissed Miles goodnight just around the corner of his parents’ house, he repeated the sentiment.

Tonight was quiet—the rooftops echoing a dull hum of cars and buses passing through as boots trudged through slushy sidewalks below. Miles picked the spot knowing it was one of the safest in Brooklyn this time of night—though he’d never admit it to Peter. They could use this time to clear their heads, think about future plans, and talk about life and everything in between. He knew Peter had grown tired of the routine, preferring to spend his nights facing the TV than facing off against criminals.

“I’m telling you, we should be on the PDNY payroll. They want free labor? Hire an intern. It’s not our job to stop every pickpocket in New York City. I’m getting too—“

“—old for this shit, I know.”

Peter frowned, standing at the edge of the building to look down at the street below. “I should be home right now, in my nice warm bed, watching reruns, and not freezing my ass off on a rooftop so that they can sleep on the job.”

“Doesn’t your suit have temperature regulation?”

“That’s not the _point_ , Miles,” he turned to look at his partner.

“Yeah, well. Looks like they don’t need our help tonight, anyway,” Miles shrugged. The two Spider-Men stood at the edge of the rooftop, looking over the city below. It was a breathtaking view from 8 stories up—the glow of the bridge set against the city skyline. Miles looked down and took Peter’s hand in his own, giving it a squeeze. “It’s not all bad, is it?”

Peter turned to face the boy, taking his face in his hands. “No, it isn’t,” he leaned in close, nuzzling his masked face against Miles’.

“Kiss me, Peter.”

Peter hooked his fingers under Miles’ mask, pulling it off slowly. Miles returned the gesture, lifting the man’s mask up and over his head. Peter’s hair was tousled and hung in wisps over his forehead. They stood like that—gazing at each other in the moonlight, the other’s mask clutched in their fists, as Peter leaned in to find Miles’ lips with his own. Peter kissed him softly, just lips and a hand cupping his cheek gingerly.

Just then, the sound of a door opening behind them stirred them into action. Peter held a gloved finger to his mouth in a shushing gesture before grabbing Miles by the hand once more. He quickly pulled them behind a large column for cover as they ducked behind it, huddled together close.

“I dropped your mask!” Miles whispered with a loud gasp.

“Shut up, Miles. You’re going to get us caught.” Thinking fast, Peter shot a web over Miles’ mouth to silence him.

Miles mumbled through the sticky strands, but was effectively gagged. His eyes fluttered shut with a muffled groan.

In the moonlight, a security guard stood in the doorway, flashlight in hand. He mouthed a quick “south tower rooftop all clear, 9:00 patrol” into his walkie talkie before turning to leave the rooftop once more, closing the door behind him.

Peter quickly turned to Miles, peeling off the sticky webbing and wiping it on his own suit.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Was that too much? I didn’t mean—“

“Ah fuck, Peter. That kinda gets me off. Can you, um...do it again?”

“Wait, what?” Peter’s eyes lit up at the prospect, grinning widely at Miles.

Miles shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think it would be hot if you webbed me.”

“Wow.”

“Is that weird?”

“No, I just can’t believe I didn’t think of that first. Now when you say ‘ _web you_ ’, do you mean...”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what I was gonna say yet.”

“Oh.”

“Like, sex stuff?”

“Yeah...I think so.”

“You want me to web you and fuck you.”

“Yeah.”

“In that order.”

“Yes.”

“On this roof.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Peter repeated back.

The two Spider-Men were still kneeling behind the column when Peter leaned in to kiss Miles again. This one was urgent and aggressive, taking instead of giving. Peter’s tongue dipped between Miles’ lips, kissing the boy deeply and passionately. Miles whimpered into his mouth, wordlessly asking for more.

“You know it’s like 46 degrees, right?” Peter said against Miles’ lips before kissing them again.

“Mmm,” Miles mumbled into the man’s mouth.

Peter broke the kiss again, to Miles’ frustration. “And you know I don’t have any lube, right?” Another kiss.

“In my bag,” Miles choked out. _Kiss_.

“Wow, and here I was thinking you were a sweet, innocent boy.” _Kiss_.

“Well I thought if you were coming back to my dorm...” _Kiss_. Neither could get more than a few words in without the other drowning out their voice with wet lips and eager tongue.

Peter reached between them and gripped the front of Miles’ suit, pulling the boy closer until he stumbled forward. “Oh I like when you’re bad.” _Kiss_. “Tell me what you were planning.”

Peter barely gave him the opportunity to answer. He shifted them so that he was sitting down with his back leaning against the column and—with Miles’ suit still clenched in his grip—pulled the boy to straddle his lap. When Miles opened his mouth to speak, Peter took it as an invitation to bring their mouths together, hungrily biting at his lower lip.

Miles mumbled into his mouth, smirking at how inefficient this conversation was. Peter pulled away, gasping foggy breaths into the chilly air. “I’m waiting,” he said with mock impatience.

“Then stop kissing me!”

Peter pulled back a little before leaning in to find Miles’ ear instead, kissing and nibbling at him. Breathing seductively on it, making Miles’ hair stand on end. “Tell me,” he breathed softly into his ear, his gloved hands finding their way through the boy’s hair.

Peter’s breath in his ear made it hard to think. His blood had all rushed to his cock. “I-I wanted to sneak you into my dorm to...to fuck me.”

“Would we be alone?”

“N-no...” he shuddered. “Ganke’s there. We’d have to be quiet.”

“Shit, does that get you off too? Knowing we might get caught.”

Miles nodded.

“You’re so naughty,” Peter breathed into his ear. “I bet you want to be caught. You want to get in trouble.” He took Miles’ face in his gloved hand and turned it roughly toward him. “You want people to see a grown man fucking you.”

Miles whimpered. Even with no contact, his cock was straining against the spandex of his suit, tenting the stretchy fabric. He looked down to see Peter’s was the same—the glow from the lamp posts above illuminating his arousal. He reached between them to feel Peter’s erection, his fingertips brushing against the fabric.

“Did I say you could touch it?” Peter grabbed Miles’ hand firmly. “We’ll have to do something about those hands.”

Peter had never spoken to him this way. They’d only had sex a few times now, but while Peter continued to test the limits of how much aggression Miles would take—how much he could dominate him—Miles continued to allow it to go further.

He liked feeling small and submissive. At first, Miles felt ashamed at how small and inadequate his body felt next to Peter’s—how childlike he felt beneath him. But he quickly learned to love the feeling of Peter taking charge, overpowering him. Peter made him feel safe and cared for, filled him up physically and emotionally, made him whole.

This was new—and while it may just be a game between them, acting out fantasy—Miles could see it awoke something within Peter.

“Hold your hands out,” it was a command, not a request. Miles complied, holding his hands out between their bodies. Peter furrowed his brow in his signature show of concentration—a look Miles came to appreciate as the epitome of sexy—before aiming his wrist and shooting white strands of webbing to bind Miles’ wrists together.

Miles left out a gasp of surprise.

“We’ll have to do something about that mouth, too,” he said offhandedly before shooting another web straight at Miles’ face without further warning. The sticky webbing covered Miles’ mouth, stifling his groans so that all he could manage was a muffled whimper beneath the web. “Much better.”

Peter shifted them so that Miles climbed off his lap, sitting him against the column in his place. Peter stood and walked over to where they’d been standing earlier—retrieving his mask and Miles’ backpack, carrying it back to where Miles sat bound and gagged.

“Let’s see,” Peter hummed to himself, rifling through Miles’ backpack beside him. “Change of clothes—good call. Phones—need those. Ah, here we go,” he pulled a small bottle of lube out of the bag, setting it on the ground beside him.

Miles groaned.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that. You say something?” he patted Miles’ hair.

Miles shook his head.

Miles’ eyes were squeezed shut, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. He listened as Peter walked over to him slowly, standing at his feet. “Get on your knees.”

Miles complied, rising to his knees on the hard concrete, his bound wrists at his waist concealing his straining cock.

“Hands up,” another order from Peter. Miles was having fun with their game, and wanted to push Peter a little bit further—see how much of a rise he could get out of the man if he didn’t comply. “Miles, I said hands up. Are you listening?”

Miles shook his head.

“Ah. Ha, I see what you’re doing. No, nuh uh, nope...that’s not gonna work,” Peter furrowed his brow once more. “Lift up your hands, baby.”

Miles tilted his head to one side playfully—challenging Peter. The older man sighed. “You’re really gonna make me— _damnit_ , Miles. Okay, that’s fine. Okay.” Miles could see that Peter was trying to compose himself, pacing a little bit in front of him.

“You want me to teach you a lesson, don’t you? Want me to punish you. I know that’s what you’re doing.”

Miles nodded slowly.

Peter grabbed Miles by the arm, dragging him to his feet. He kissed the boy’s forehead softly, cupping his cheek carefully with his free hand—almost as if to assure him this was just a game. The contrast of fingers digging into his flesh while soft lips and gentle hand brushed his skin was deeply arousing. “God, I love you, Miles,” a whisper in his ear. Peter straightened up again, clearing his throat as if to bring him back to focus on the matter at hand.

With fingers still gripping Miles’ arm, Peter dragged him beneath the light of the lamp post and guided him to his knees once more. They were in plain view of the doorway to the stairwell where the security guard had previously emerged. “Here we go,” he said, folding his arms. “Wouldn’t want to spoil the excitement of getting caught. I know how much you like that.” Miles whimpered as the man pushed him forward, knocking him over onto his elbows and knees. Miles loved how vulnerable he felt.

“Hang on,” Peter mumbled to himself, slipping Miles’ mask over his head from behind before putting on his own. “In case we get caught.”

Behind him, Miles could hear the unzipping of Peter’s suit. Although their Spider-Man suits had a stretchy neck opening for sliding on and off—they also had a hidden zipper at the crotch, concealed beneath a flap of fabric for easy bathroom access. It ran from just below the belly to the tailbone, and was also incredibly convenient for rooftop sex.

Miles turned around to see Peter’s cock springing from the opening of the suit. Peter never wore underwear under his spandex—said he liked the feeling of the material against his skin, that it felt freeing. Miles always thought that was kind of gross—it wasn’t unusual for them to sweat under the tight material. Still, Miles couldn’t stifle a moan under the webbing as he took in the sight of his partner.

He had fantasized about seeing Peter this way ever since he started lusting after his mentor. He loved how powerful Peter looked in his suit—the way it accentuated his muscles, the curve of his ass, the outline of his cock. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d imagined Peter this way—thrusting into his own hand, against his pillow—the image of Spider-Man burned into his mind as he brought himself over the edge.

“Turn around,” Peter ordered. “I didn’t say you could look.” Miles couldn’t comply, even if he wanted to. He was entranced.

Peter placed a hand on the small of Miles back, leaning over him. Miles heard a sudden _thwip_ as his wrists were webbed to the ground below him. Felt Peter nudge his legs open wider. _THWIP_. Each ankle bound to the concrete. He was pinned and gagged on his elbows and knees, ass in the air as an offering to Peter.

Peter ran a hand down Miles’ back, lingering on the curve of his ass before reaching lower to slowly unzip his suit. Miles’ body shivered involuntarily at the intruding draft of cold air as Peter slid the band of his underwear down inside his suit, just enough to expose his ass to the elements. He could no longer turn his body to look back at Peter—all he could do was wait in anticipation. He wiggled his body, straining to move.

Peter stilled him with a hand on his lower back before Miles suddenly felt the man’s tongue licking a slow trail along his entrance. He screamed out, the sound muffled by the web and by his mask. They had never done this before—he didn’t even know Peter would want to. Just as soon as it had started, the sensation was withdrawn. Miles cried out as best he could beneath his mouth covering—pleading, begging, screaming with muffled desperation—anything to bring back the feeling of Peter’s tongue on him.

“Oh, you like that,” Peter said with mock surprise. Miles wiggled again in response. “Well, I’m not sure if you’ve earned it,” he laughed, “so you’re gonna have to beg me for it.”

Miles was whimpering now, a desperate plea for Peter’s mouth. The cold air against wet skin was painful, and he would do anything to feel Peter’s warm tongue on him again. He rocked his hips back, as if they were searching for contact. He rocked forward and back with the limited movement he could afford, whining and pleading with each motion. If that wasn’t enough...if Peter didn’t lick him again...his eyes started welling up with tears, desperate, needy sobs wracking his small frame.

“Shhh,” Peter’s breath was on him before Miles felt a tongue slipping between his ass cheeks again. He purred as Peter lapped at him gently, his eyelids fluttering shut as the pleasure overcame him. He lost himself to the feeling as Peter’s tongue slipped into his opening—preparing him for what was to come. As if anything in this world could ever be better than this as Peter ate his ass for what felt like forever.

Miles’ body physically recoiled in protest as Peter’s tongue abandoned him once more. Then, the sound of a lid popping open, followed by the cold shock of lube squirting directly on his skin, dripping down. He supposed that was the only option, seeing as Peter’s fingers were gloved.

Miles didn’t have to wait long to find more contact. Peter rubbed the head of his cock against his entrance a few times before slipping it in unceremoniously. He pushed himself all the way in, until Miles felt Peter’s clothed hips against his ass. “Mmm, you’re so tight for me, baby.”

The first few times Peter was inside him, they were still figuring out the logistics and getting Miles comfortable. His body was getting used to accommodating Peter now, and this time he felt the uncomfortable pressure give way to pleasure building inside of him much sooner as Peter started thrusting into him. The pain of being stretched out by Peter’s cock was still enough to make him cry out—but he also moaned through spasms of ecstasy each time the man buried his cock inside of him.

Peter’s hands were on Miles’ back, as if he were trying to still his movements, ensuring he was effectively pinned to the concrete beneath them. He was going faster and more aggressively than the times before, grunting and sighing as he pounded away at Miles’ body.

Miles couldn’t keep quiet—even with his mouth gagged and his face masked. He cried out again and again, his gloved fingers clawing at the hard surface beneath him, trying to find anything to hold on to.

“Shhh, I’ve got you. Let daddy take care of you.”

Fuck, that was...unexpectedly hot. Miles whimpered softly, his breathing calming, his movements slowing—letting go completely. Peter grabbed him by the waist roughly, hips slamming, heavy panting, groaning deeply. It sounded like he was letting go, too...almost at the edge.

“That’s it, just lay there and take it. Good boy”

A few more pumps and Peter drained himself inside of Miles, a choked cry escaping him. Miles was quiet now, reveling in the sound of Peter’s orgasm—gasping for air, hips slapping, deep guttural groans in the back of the mans’ throat.

And then everything was quiet. All Miles could hear was faint sound of cars on the street below, and their slowing breaths. Peter collapsed on top of him momentarily, before reaching down to remove Miles’ bondage from his wrists and ankles.

Peter stood to tuck himself back into his suit, and Miles rose to his feet dizzily. Peter’s arms were around him, holding him tight like he was keeping him grounded to reality, burying his face in Miles’ neck, making him feel safe and secure and loved and all the things only Peter could make him feel.

“Oh Miles, I love you.”

All Miles could do was mumble back.

“Shit!” Peter cursed, lifting off the boy’s mask and carefully peeling the web from his mouth. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Mmm...ah, thanks,” he winced, rubbing at his mouth. It felt like tape being ripped off his skin.

Peter pulled off his own mask before nuzzling his stubbled face against Miles’ cheek. He kissed it softly, whispering against Miles’ skin, “let me warm you up.”

Peter dropped to his knees.

He reached into the opening of Miles’ suit, maneuvering his underwear down beneath the fabric. Miles’ dick was aching-hard, begging to be touched after having been neglected all night. Peter pulled it through the opening of the suit so it was hanging in front of his lips. Miles moaned softly at the sight, curling fingers through Peter’s hair.

Peter looked up at him, his mouth wide open and his tongue sticking out expectantly. He was waiting for Miles to feed it to him. Miles gripped his hair a little tighter, pulling the man’s head onto his cock. Peter groaned around his length, eagerly gagging himself on it as he went deeper. Miles liked the enthusiasm. He tested the waters, rocking his hips gently into his partner’s mouth to see what kind of reaction he’d get. Peter choked a little, but dug his fingers into Miles’ hips, encouraging him to keep thrusting—helping guide the boy in his mouth. Peter fervently sucked at him, humming contentedly as his lips slid over the boy’s length.

Miles didn’t have time to warn his partner as he shot his seed down the man’s throat. He was panting, hips bucking uncontrollably as Peter sucked him through the orgasm before graciously lapping up anything he missed.

And then it was quiet again.

Peter climbed to his feet, swaying unsteadily as Miles grabbed onto him this time. They held onto each other tightly, their bodies a tangle of limbs. They kissed, desperately clinging to each other in the moonlight. Miles never wanted to let go.

“Do you think we should patrol more often?” Peter mused, eliciting a laugh from Miles.


	18. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff and angst to balance out the last chapter.

It was a rainy Sunday morning in March, and Miles and Peter were cuddling in bed. The sound of the rain on the windows was comforting as both Spider-Men lay intertwined beneath the covers. 

Peter kissed Miles’ forehead soothingly. “Do you think we should get married?”

Miles’ heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. He turned to look at Peter. “Huh?”

“When you’re 18, I mean.”

“Oh, right.”

“I know it’s kind of sudden, but I’ve been thinking. If we got married, maybe people would be more accepting. And you know, from a financial standpoint it makes sense. And of course, legally speaking.”

“Oh.”

“Just think about it...you don’t have to answer right now.”

“Yeah.”

“I just thought—“

“Is that...the only reason?”

“What? No, of course not, Miles.”

“Oh.”

“Miles. Hey, look at me,” they were facing each other on the pillow—Peter’s hand resting on Miles’ cheek. Miles couldn’t look him in the eyes. It wasn’t exactly the romantic scene he’d hoped for. “I love you, Miles. I want to be with you forever. To take care of you. To get old with you...like, really old. Even though you’ll still be young and hot and I’ll be really old.” Miles laughed, a tear squeezing out of his eye he didn’t know he was holding in. Peter brushed it away with his thumb.

Peter continued, “I want to wake up next to you in this bed every day. I mean, maybe not _this_ bed...maybe a nicer bed. Unless you like this one, then that’s okay. I’m trying to get my life together so I can provide for you. I’ve got this new book deal I’m signing, and then there’s the toy deal, the merchandise deal. There’s a _lot_ of deals, and a _lot_ of signing things. Look, my point is, I’m doing those things for you. So I can take care of you. I don’t want you do have to keep doing this Spider-Man thing until you’re my age.”

Miles nodded.

“So, like I said. You don’t have to answer right now, but—“

“Yeah, I want to.”

“Want to what?”

“Get married.”

“Oh. You do?”

“Yeah, I do,” Miles smirked.

* * *

They went to their favorite pizza place for lunch, sitting at their usual table in the corner.

For the last two months since they’d been together, going out in public together was awkward. They hadn’t done it often these days, and when they did, Peter was determined to keep a safe distance between them. Miles, on the other hand, resented the distance. Found himself trying to sneak touches, seeing how far he could push the limits on what was allowed in public between them. The restaurant was crowded, but their table in the corner afforded them a little privacy.

“I’ve been wanting to show you something” Miles’ cheeks flushed.

“What is it?” Peter cocked an eyebrow at his boyfriend, taking a bite of his pizza.

“Something I made at school,” Miles reached under the table and pulled out his backpack, rifling through the contents.

“An art and crafts project?” Peter teased.

“Um, sort of,” he set his school sketchbook down on the table, flipping through the pages. “Don’t peek,” he slapped Peter’s hand away.

Peter sat back in his chair, folding his arms expectantly.

Miles found the right page and slid the notebook across the table, biting his lip nervously. The long silence and look of surprise on Peter’s face made Miles’ cheeks flush. Would Peter think it was stupid?

“It’s me,” he looked up at Miles, his face beaming with pride.

“Yeah,” Miles looked down, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

“Wow, Miles this is amazing. I mean it, you’re really talented.” He reached his hands across the table in search of Miles’, seemingly unbothered by the tables of people around them—a very un-Peter thing to do. Miles looked around, unsure of himself before taking Peter’s hands in his own. “You made me look too handsome,” Peter teased.

“You _are_ too handsome,” Miles’ cheeks blushed a deep red.

“I like when you tell me,” he squeezed Miles’ hands.

They sat gazing at each other across the table, hands clasped, stars in their eyes. Miles wished it could always be this way, that they never had to hide.

Just then, a girl came to clear their empty plates from the table.

“Miles?”

Miles was confused, looking back and forth between the familiar girl and Peter, his brain not registering where he knew her from.

“I-It’s Mila...from school?” she stammered. “I sit behind you in History.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Miles remembered. He’d seen her around school with a group of friends. She waved at him a few weeks ago outside with Ganke, squealing to her friends when he waved back.

“I work here on weekends,” she beamed at Miles, blushing as she cleared the table.

He felt Peter’s hands squeeze his a little bit tighter, suddenly slippery with sweat. Miles’ heart was pounding nervously—would she tell everyone at school how she saw them together like this? If he let go of Peter’s hands now, it would be too obvious.

“Oh, um—“ Miles trailed off.

“—I was just wondering...” she cleared her throat nervously, “if you um,” her cheeks were flushed as red as her hair as as she looked down at the floor from behind her glasses.

Miles looked at Peter nervously. The man’s brow was furrowed deeply, a frown on his face.

“...if you would um, wanna go out sometime, maybe. I mean if you aren’t busy.” She looked at the floor, at the ceiling—literally everywhere but directly at Miles as he very-obviously held hands with Peter on the table.

Miles’ heart was racing at the awkwardness of the situation. He looked to Peter again for help, but the man looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel the way his face was contorted.

“I um, thanks...” Miles began, not really sure where he was going with this. Did Peter want him to say he already had a boyfriend? And if he didn’t, would Peter be jealous? Should he just say he isn’t interested, and hope she takes the hint? He looked at Peter again, who had taken to glaring at the girl across the table. “I’m kind of...seeing somebody right now.” He wanted to disappear, which made him panic that he might actually disappear by accident.

“Oh, um...that’s cool. Um, okay then,” her face was the exact opposite of ‘that’s cool’—she looked mortified. “Anyway, see you around at school.” She picked up the rest of the plates and quickly hurried off.

Miles’ hung his head, overcome with embarrassment.

 _“Kind of_ seeing somebody?” Peter pulled his hands away from Miles. “Kind of?”

“What did you want me to say, man? ‘ _I have a boyfriend and it’s this 40 year old man sitting across from me that I’m holding hands with’?_ ”

“I don’t know, how about ‘ _I’m already in a committed relationship and I’m completely uninterested’_?”

“Wow, chill man. You’re taking this way too seriously.”

“You’re not taking it seriously enough!”

Miles had never seen this side of Peter before—jealous Peter. They were getting a few looks from the adjacent tables as Peter raised his voice.

“Keep it down, man. Look, I’m sorry Peter. What do you want me to do, go over there and tell her that?”

“It’s a start.”

“No, Peter. I’m not doing that!” More people were watching. “Look, can we take this somewhere more private?” he gestured toward the onlookers.

Peter agreed, and they stood in line to pay. When they got to the register, Mila was behind the counter. Peter put a possessive arm around Miles, pulling him in close as he handed over his credit card. Mila looked directly at Miles, seemingly taken aback at the sight of him in the man’s arms. Peter leaned in and kissed Miles’ temple, lingering there a while. She handed the card back wordlessly as he put it in his back pocket and guided Miles out the door—arm still wrapped tightly around him.

When they got outside, Miles threw Peter’s arm off. “What the hell is your problem, man? You got no chill.“

They walked quickly through the streets of Brooklyn, neither Spider-Man saying a word. Miles wasn’t even sure if Peter was following him anymore—he didn’t look back the whole 26-block walk back to Peter’s apartment.

When he got to the street outside Peter’s place, he paused and looked back. Peter had fallen behind, but was still trailing him.

“Do you want to come in?” Peter’s voice was low and calm when he caught up to Miles.

“I don’t know,” Miles sighed, looking at the ground, hands in his coat pockets.

“Please?” Peter asked softly. Miles looked up to meet Peter’s gaze. He looked sad, apologetic.

“Yeah.”

They sat on opposite ends of Peter’s couch. “Miles, I—“

“You wanna tell me what that was about, back there?”

“Look, I just wanted you to acknowledge that you were already in a committed relationship. That there was no room _for...misinterpretation.”_

“Then why didn’t you just say that instead of acting like a kid?”

“Because I was jealous!” Peter raised his voice much higher than Miles’, making the boy jump. “Is that what you want me to say? I was jealous because I want people to know we’re together, Miles. Is that so wrong? I don’t wanna hide you, Miles. I wanna be able to tell people about us—to hold hands in public. I don’t want it to be a secret, but it has to be. And it’s killing me that we have to live this way.”

It was a surprisingly emotional outpouring coming from Peter. It was a sentiment they both shared—Miles never wanted this to be a secret. He never wanted to live this way either.

“You’re the one who said we can’t tell anyone. You’re the one who won’t let me touch you in public. You’re the one who said we couldn’t be together. You’re the one who said we weren’t ready for sex,” Miles counted each one off on his fingers. “The only one holding us back is you. I never wanted it to be this way.”

Peter went quiet. Miles could see the man looked hurt. “You can be really naive sometimes, Miles.”

“Well so can you.”

“I mean it. You really think I don’t want people to know about us? You think I don’t want you to touch me when people are around? That I didn’t want us to be together? That I didn’t want to have sex with you?”

“Yeah, I do think that. Because you said all those things.”

“I said those things to _protect_ you, Miles. Why do you think I held your hands at the pizza place?”

Miles said nothing, shrugging.

“Because I _want_ it to be like that, Miles. When I saw what you made for me, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to lean over the table and kiss you right there, but I’m trying to protect you. And that means making sacrifices we don’t always agree on.”

“I’m tired of sacrificing.”

“And so am I, but what can I do, Miles? We need to be careful.”

“I want people to know about us, Peter. I want them to see us. I want to tell them.”

“I know, baby,” Peter sighed, putting his face in his hands. “Me too.”

* * *

That evening, they were cuddling in bed once again with the TV playing softly in the background. It was a school night, and Miles was trying to take in as much of Peter as he could before they’d go all week without seeing each other.

Miles’ hand was idly wandering over Peter’s chest as they watched a basketball game—fingertips tracing circles on the smooth skin before trailing lower to his belly. He gave it a squeeze.

Peter mumbled something about his belly being off-limits. Miles knew he hated it, but he couldn’t help himself. The soft, slightly-squishy flesh with just a hint of hair was so enticing to Miles. So masculine and different from his own body. He leaned down to kiss it, nibbling at it to get a reaction out of Peter.

“Why do you like that?” Peter groaned, shaking his head.

“Because it’s hot,” Miles teased, even though he meant it. “I want all of you to myself,” he nuzzled into it.

“Even my belly?” he cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

“ _Especially_ ,” Miles smirked, laying his head to rest on it.

Peter reached out to stroke his partner’s hair with a soft hum of content that Miles could feel in Peter’s belly. Miles felt complete like this. Like this was where he was supposed to be in that moment. Nothing mattered except the rise and fall of Peter’s breath beneath him—the beating of his heart.

“I was thinking,” Peter said, looking down at Miles.

“Uh oh.”

“Would you just listen?” the older man smirked.

“That depends,” Miles sat up, looking down at Peter laying on the pillow.

“Anyway,” he sighed, ignoring Miles, “I thought of a way people can know that we’re together.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, we have that Spider-Man book signing coming up, and I just thought...” Peter paused to look up at Miles, smiling at the boy lovingly. “Come here,” he pulled Miles close, pressing their chests together. He leaned in to brush his lips to Miles’, kissing him slowly before pulling back. “I thought maybe they can see us there like that.”

“You mean like...?”

“Yeah.”

“Spider-Man is gonna be gay?”

“I mean, technically bi, but I just thought—“

“Well, one of them is gay,” Miles interrupted. It was the first time Miles had ever admitted it completely, said the words aloud. Even when he told Ganke about him and Peter, there was a sort of denial looming, a hope that maybe it was a phase that would come to pass. He was sure now that it wasn’t.

“You’re gay, Miles?” they were so close their foreheads were pressed together. Peter sounded surprised. Like he was also wondering if this could all be some phase. 

Miles shrugged, “yeah, man. Where have you been the last four months?”

“I dunno,” Peter frowned. “I guess I always worried you just hadn’t met the right girl yet.”

“That’s why you were jealous...at the pizza place.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“I guess I just thought...you’re supposed to be with that girl, and not me. That she’s better for you. She could give you what I can’t...a normal relationship where you can kiss in public without worrying who sees. You can take her to the school prom. Introduce her to your parents.”

“Wow, you gonna plan our wedding, too? You know I’ve never even met her, right?”

“Yeah, I’m realizing that now...”

“I don’t like girls, Peter. I’m gay, and the only one I want is you. So can you chill out with the jealousy thing?”

Peter was grinning now. “Yeah, I can do that.” He kissed Miles’ forehead.

“So...Spider-Man and his much older sidekick, huh?”

“I’m not the sidekick, kid. You’re the sidekick.”

“Uh huh,” Miles rolled his eyes.


	19. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s about to get a lil crazy in here. There are some dubcon elements in this one and some fun new tags. You’ve been warned.
> 
> Let me know what you think or what you’d like to see. Thanks for reading!

“Woah, hot date tonight?” Miles’ dad punched him playfully on the shoulder. Miles was shaving his face in front of the bathroom mirror. Their house wasn’t big enough to provide much in the way of privacy, so it wasn’t unusual that his dad was sharing the mirror to get ready for work behind him.

“I told you, dad. I’m going to Ganke’s house for his Aunt’s birthday party. He didn’t wanna be the only one there under the age of 50,” Miles looked down and away from the mirror, knowing his face was always a dead giveaway in a lie.

“Right. What was her name again?” he looked at Miles suspiciously.

“May. Aunt May.”

“Ah, that’s right. Well, you know the rules, son.”

“Yeah, I know. Home by 11, no drinking, no smoking, no drugs,” he counted off on his fingers.

“ _NO_ girls,” he added sternly.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miles muttered under his breath.

“Why is that?”

“Why’s what?” Miles hadn’t expected his dad to hear. He tried sound casual and offhand, not giving away anything in his voice or facial features.

“You said I don’t have to worry about you with girls. Why is that?”

“No reason.” Miles rinsed his razor off under the sink, replacing it in the medicine cabinet. “I just don’t know any. Anyway, it’s not that kind of party.”

“Right...” his dad frowned. “Well, you stay out of trouble, you hear me? You’re almost a man now, Miles.” He put his arm around his son’s shoulders, “I’m counting on you to make good choices.”

“I know, dad. I will.”

* * *

Miles met Peter at the bus stop at 5 PM. His story was only half a lie—he _was_ going to Aunt May’s birthday party.

“This is gonna be an awkward one,” Peter told Miles as they took their seats on the bus to Queens.

“Don’t look at me—I don’t know anyone there either.”

“Well, just stay close to me. I don’t wanna get cornered by any little old ladies asking me too many questions.”

“Peter...there’s something I should tell you,” it was as good a time as any. The bus wasn’t overly crowded, but enough that Peter couldn’t make a scene should he react poorly.

“Should I be worried?”

“Um, it’s about Aunt May. She _knows_ Peter,” Miles pinched the bridge of his nose, bracing himself for Peter’s reaction. “About us.”

Peter blinked at him a few times, his brain not registering the information he’d just been given. “Don’t be ridiculous, Miles. She doesn’t know.”

“She does know...” he looked down at his hands. “I-I told her.” Miles could see Peter processing what he’d said—his expression changing from indifference to shock to anger before settling on a face that looked like he was about to be sick. “I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t have anyone else to talk to.”

“This is my fault,” Peter finally said, his face turning pale and sickly. “Is it my fault?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Miles shrugged.

Peter nodded slowly. “What did she say?”

“She said she understands...a little. Then she drank a lot of wine.”

Peter sighed, throwing his head back on the headrest. He didn’t speak for the rest of the ride.

* * *

The party was a fairly large crowd—Aunt May’s friends and family, and a few neighbors. “There’s my boys!” she shouted when Peter and Miles walked in, standing to hug them both. “This is my Peter’s older brother, the one I was telling you about.”

She was proud of the clever cover-up story she’d created to explain the _new_ Peter to the people in her life, after he’d moved in with her a couple years back. The story was that before _her_ Peter was born, their parents had a boy named Peter who they made the difficult decision to adopt out at birth. 12 years later, when they gave birth to another son, they gave him the same name to honor his older brother he’d never know. When _her_ Peter died, she reunited with the older brother. That was the whole story, and given that the two Peters were 12 years apart, nobody seemed to question it.

Some gasped and commented on the likeness of the two Peters, fussing over him like he was on display. Miles could see Peter was uncomfortable, so they said a few pleasantries and made their way to the backyard. A few people stood around chatting outside with drinks in hand, but most of the crowd was inside the house to escape the cold.

They pulled up a couple of chairs to sit near the Spider-Man shed, away from listening ears. Miles shook a little from the cold, pulling his hoodie tighter around himself.

“Here, give me your hands,” Peter held out his hands to take the boy’s smaller ones in his own, giving them a reassuring squeeze, rubbing them between his palms. “Better?” It was an innocent enough gesture, but it still felt like they were doing something too intimate and forbidden for watchful eyes.

Miles nodded.

“Remember all the time we used to spend out here, Miles?” Peter gestured toward the shed—the other Peter’s secret underground base they had adopted as their own. “Remember how we used to stay up all night to train? Just so we could spend more time together.”

“I miss those days.”

“Yeah,” Peter smiled wistfully. “I’m not sure how much you actually learned from me, kid. But we had a lot of fun.”

“I learned one thing,” Miles smirked, lowering his voice. Peter was still holding his hands even though they were already warm. He cocked an eyebrow curiously at Miles. “I learned how to turn invisible so you wouldn’t see how horny I was.”

“I already knew,” Peter looked directly into his eyes, something like longing reflected there. They were so intense, he had to look away.

“No you didn’t—wait, for real though?”

Peter nodded. They had never talked about it before. Miles was in disbelief, wracking his brain to recall all the nights they’d spent together. There was no way.

“I always knew, Miles. I was just busy making sure you never found out that I was, too.”

“How’d that work out for you?” Miles teased.

The two Spider-Men were reminiscing on old times when Peter’s eyes suddenly went wide. His gaze was fixated on the back door, mouth suddenly hanging slack. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Miles waved a hand his front of his face to get his attention, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Peter? You alright, man?” Peter finally snapped out of his trance, letting go of Miles’ hands.

“Do you wanna get out of here? I-I’m starting to feel cold. How about we go back inside?” Miles shrugged, turning to follow Peter’s gaze to the house.

It was Mary Jane.

Miles didn’t have time to react before Peter stood and walked back toward the house. Miles caught up with him as they quickly shuffled their way past Mary Jane and back into the kitchen.

“What’s going on, Peter?” they spoke in hushed tones at the kitchen table.

“I didn’t know MJ was going to be here, and I’m just a _little_ bit caught off guard.”

“I mean, she _was_ married to Aunt May’s Peter. It makes sense that she’d—“

“—Do you wanna get going? I think we should get out of here. Let’s head back to the bus.” Peter looked around nervously.

“Peter, we just got here. We can’t leave now. What about Aunt May’s party?”

“I just...I can’t do this, Miles. We have to go, trust me.”

“But why? I thought you guys talked things out. I thought you were okay with everything.”

“I _was_ , it’s just...” he sighed, “you wouldn’t understand. Can you just let it go and let’s get out of here? I need to get as far away from her as possible”

“No, I’m not leaving, Peter! Not without a good reason.”

“Damnit, Miles. Do you know how much it hurts? She looks exactly like her...like my MJ. It brings back...a lot of memories.” 

Something burned in the pit of Miles’ stomach, something sickening and unrecognizable. _My MJ_. He thought he might vomit. His MJ. _Like she belonged to him._

“Why would it? Unless you’re not over her. Unless you still—“

“You don’t get it, Miles. You never get over losing someone you love. You just...move on. But sometimes it gets harder. You’re too young to understand.”

“So you’re not over her.”

“I didn’t say that! I don’t know what I am.”

Miles’ eyes were stinging with tears. They spilled over, staining his cheeks. There was a knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat. He stood suddenly with enough force to knock over his chair—it hit the floor with a loud clatter.

“Let me know if you figure it out.”

He had to get away from Peter—didn’t want to see his face. He focused inward, willing himself to disappear. Didn’t care who else was around to see it. He knew Peter could hear him crying as he left the room, but there was nothing the man could do to stop him as he disappeared into the crowd.

Miles felt so many new and painful things he’d never experienced before. Jealousy, betrayal, insecurity. It brought so many fears to the surface he’d never faced. In some dark place in the back of his mind, he’d always wondered if Peter would want her. Would he tire of being with a boy and want to be with a woman again?

Miles could hear Peter calling out for him as he retreated up the stairs. His feet carried him to Peter’s old bedroom, where he sat at the foot of the bed. It looked different now. The bed and dresser hadn’t changed, but all of Peter’s movie posters, video games, and comic books were replaced with lace and flowers, things of Aunt May’s. It still felt comforting and familiar enough in his moment of need.

Peter’s voice was getting closer, calling his name. Another voice followed—one he didn’t recognize.

“Everything okay, Peter?”

“No, have you seen Miles?”

“Who?”

“Miles. Other Spider-Man, red hoodie. Kid about this tall.”

“Right, May told me about him. What’s with that kid, anyway? Is he your sidekick or something?”

“ _That kid_ is mine, and I need to find him.”

“Peter...I think we should talk.”

“Now? Are you even listening? I have to find Miles.”

“I’m sure he’s here somewhere. He’s probably taking a breather outside. Come and sit, you need to calm down.”

Miles jumped up off the bed when he realized they had entered the room. Peter and Mary Jane.

Still invisible, Miles slipped into the closet unseen, leaving it open just enough. His heart was pounding out of his chest as Peter sat down on the bed, putting his head in his hands. Miles watched as Mary Jane sat close to him, and the fear and uncertainty of what might transpire before him was enough to make him physically sick. _Why were they sitting so close? Why were they alone in Peter’s old room? Why wasn’t he moving away?_ He breathed slowly, trying to keep himself together.

“Peter, I’ve been wanting to talk...ever since that night.”

“Yeah...” Peter nodded slowly, a long silence falling on them.

Mary Jane spoke up first. “You know, when Pete died, it was like...a dark cloud over me. It followed me everywhere, overshadowing everything. I didn’t think I’d ever see the light again.”

“Mary Jane—“

“When May told me about you, I was terrified to meet you. Would you look like him? Sound like him? Could you be just like him? When I met you, I...You aren’t him, Peter. But I think...that dark cloud started to lift just a little bit. I realized that I could feel something good again.”

Peter was crying now, sobbing into his hands. Miles had never seen anything like it. Mary Jane put a hand on his back, and Miles recoiled at the sight. They sat like that for what felt like forever, until Peter composed himself, wiping his nose on his sleeve with a loud sniff.

“This isn’t exactly the life I imagined, either. I had _everything_...I just didn’t know it yet. A normal life—a wife, a house, doing a job I loved. But then, I don’t know. I got scared. I lost everything, and I can’t get it back now.”

Mary Jane had tears in her eyes as she took Peter’s hand. Miles was weak, nearly brought to his knees at the sight. He stood anxiously in the closet, watching. Waiting. “Is there no hope for us, Peter?” She leaned down to kiss his hand and then let it go. Miles watched as Mary Jane took Peter’s face in her hands, turning him toward her. _Are they going to kiss?_

Peter brushed her hand off, turning away from her.

“We can’t do this, Mary Jane. It’s time for us to move on now—we can’t bring them back. We have to get over the past. There’s no going back for either of us. I made the choice to stay in this world, and I have to keep moving forward.”

“Why did you do it? Why did you stay?”

“For Miles.”

“ _The kid_?” she sounded incredulous.

“I already told you, he’s not just a kid. There’s something you need to understand.” Peter took a deep breath, and Miles saw his brow furrowed deeply even from inside the closet. “Miles is my...he’s my _soulmate_. I didn’t understand it then, but I knew I loved him. It was like I’d _always_ loved him. Like I was supposed to be with him, take care of him, keep him safe. But then...” he trailed off, not noticing the look of confusion on her face. “I just...I couldn’t be without him. So I stayed.”

Miles never knew—not any of it. Peter had always told him the reason he stayed behind was to protect him, and to make sure he finished the job. That he had nothing else to lose. He never said anything about love.

“And now? Is that why you stay?”

“I stay because he’s everything good in my life. He’s everything to me. And anyway, there’s no way back now.”

“Peter, he’s a child. Are you—“

“He’s not a...he’ll be an adult soon. He’s almost a man. Almost...legal,” he trailed off.

“I don’t—wait, _legal_?“ a look of realization spread across her features. “ _Oh my god_ , you’re not in a relationship with him, are you?” she slapped his arm, looking scandalized.

Peter nodded, the pain in his eyes on display. “When I look at him, I see a piece of myself. That kid is just like me. Seeing the world through his eyes is like getting another chance at life. To do things the right way.”

“But you can have those things as a friend, a mentor, a father figure. It’s not too late, Peter. You can still do the right thing.”

“I can’t,” he looked down at his hands, tears staining his cheeks again as he choked on his words. “It’s too late. I am so...in love with him. He’s the air I breathe. Without him I’d...I’d suffocate. It’s too late,” Peter sighed. “I’m sorry, Mary Jane.”

Miles had never heard anything so poetic come from Peter’s lips.

“No, I’m sorry, Peter,” she stood to leave, looking down at him with pity in her eyes. And then she left, shaking her head as she closed the door behind her.

Peter put his head in his hands, deep sobs wracking his body. Miles had never seen him like this. 

Still invisible, he went to Peter. Miles climbed on the bed next to him as he rested his head on the man’s shoulder, cuddling into him, wrapping his arms around him, comforting him. Peter melted into the feeling.

“Miles...” he choked the name out, chest heaving. When he heard his name from Peter’s lips, Miles reappeared—shedding his invisibility.

Miles took Peter’s hand—just as Mary Jane had done—covering it with soft kisses, reclaiming it as his own. He took Peter’s face in his hands, as if to erase the memory of her doing the same, turning it gently to face him.

“Miles,” Peter repeated. This time it was pleading and desperate with longing, as if carrying with it all the words left unsaid between them.

There was something Miles needed to know, so that he could put all the pieces together. Before they could be whole again. “That night with Mary Jane...you told me you went to her because you needed to know something, but you wouldn’t say what. I need to know, Peter.”

Peter nodded, his body shaken by erratic breaths as his cries faded away.

“I needed to know...if I could love her. If I could pick up the pieces of my old life and put them back together somehow. I thought if I could just try...” he found Miles hands again, lacing their fingers together, “...then maybe I could start again.”

“Is that what you want?” he looked into Peter’s eyes, tears mirroring Peter’s clouded gaze.

“I thought I did,” he sighed. “But I couldn’t. I didn’t feel anything for her. She felt like a stranger. She’s _not...her.”_

“Do you miss her...your Mary Jane?” Miles winced as the words left his lips, not wanting to hear the answer, but needing to know the truth. Needing to know where they stood.

Peter smiled lovingly at Miles—a striking contrast to his mournful eyes—and shook his head. “No, I don’t miss her. Sometimes I think maybe...I miss the memory of how things used to be. It can be hard not to romanticize the past. But it was already over. I don’t have a Mary Jane anymore.” He squeezed Miles hands in his own. “Now I have a Miles. I have to keep moving forward, and my future is here with you.”

Miles pulled Peter into his arms, wiped tear-stained cheeks that matched his own, whispered promises in his ear. He would be the adult when Peter needed him to. They leaned into one another—bodies pressed, hands clasped, lips meeting—clinging to one another as if they were holding on for their lives. Miles took charge of the kiss, needing Peter to feel his devotion, to know his love, to make him feel whole again.

Their breaths steadied and slowed until the only sound in the room was their lips—calm, soothing kisses turning hungry and wanting. Peter took back charge of the situation like he always did, tongue teasing Miles’ lips open and tasting him. They moaned softly into each other’s mouths, a sense of urgency building. The mood in the air shifted noticeably when Peter rested their joined hands over his cock as it strained against his pants.

“Do you want to touch it, Miles?” Miles complied, longing to please his partner. To make him feel better, take away his pain. His hand stroked the outline of Peter’s cock through the fabric of his pants, massaging gently and rubbing at it soothingly.

“What are we doing?” Miles murmured before the man silenced him with his lips. He was dizzy with arousal but acutely aware of the unlocked door standing between them and the party downstairs.

“I’m gonna make love to you.”

“We’re gonna get caught,” Miles was uneasy, hesitant to go any further even as his hand indulged Peter’s dick.

Peter pulled the waistband of his pants down, cock springing out at attention.

“Suck on it, Miles.”

“Nah, stop messing around, Peter. This is dangerous.”

Despite his objection, Miles was mesmerized as Peter used his free hand to slowly stroke himself, sliding his thumb idly over the glistening head of his cock. Peter knew the boy’s weakness—watching Peter get himself off was like a drug for Miles. Ever since that morning in his dorm bathroom, there were no limits to what Miles would do just to see Peter thrusting into his own hand again, to see the man’s cum dripping down his own knuckles. Miles _was_ weak...he couldn’t look away.

“Look at it, Miles. It feels so good when I touch it. I’m so hard...I’m leaking.”

“Peter, we can’t. Not here...come on, man.”

“Look how big it is. It’s all for you, Miles. Look at it.”

Miles was so turned on, his defenses were weakening.

“Please don’t say no, baby. Suck it for me...please.”

“I wanna please you, Peter. I just don’t—“

“ _Get on your knees and open your mouth for me_ ,” Peter’s tone suddenly switched from pleading to commanding. 

Miles moaned softly at the request. He complied, getting to the floor on his knees and opening his mouth for Peter, unable to resist. He looked up at his partner eagerly, tongue sticking out to receive him.

Peter stood up in front of Miles, guiding himself into the boy’s open mouth. He sighed as Miles’ lips closed around him, sucking at him fervently. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” Miles’ cheeks flushed hot, feeling encouraged. He focused all his efforts on trying to fit Peter down his throat. He hadn’t quite mastered the technique, but resolved to try. He would do anything in that moment to please Peter.

Miles gagged as Peter’s dick hit the back of his throat.

“Yes baby...I wanna see you choke on it.” Peter couldn’t control his hips as they rocked rhythmically into Miles. The boy coughed and sputtered at the intrusion.

“I knew you couldn’t take it. It’s too big for you.” He pulled out, resting his spit-soaked cock on Miles’ cheek before pulling it back a little. Miles heard a smack as it snapped across his face. Something about the degrading gesture was deeply arousing. Peter slapped him with it again.

“You love when I use your mouth like this. Now try again. Show me how deep you can take it.” He slid into Miles’ mouth once more, coaxing a deep guttural moan from the boy as he tried again to take the whole length of it.

“You’re such a good boy,” he cupped Miles’ face in his hands, brushing lips with thumb as his cock slid in and out to steady thrusts. “That mouth belongs to me,” he whispered between shaky breaths. Miles whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks from being gagged on it. He loved Peter using him this way. It was intoxicating, Peter whispering sweet words of encouragement between commands as Miles did his best to please his partner.

“I’m gonna come, baby. Look at me. Watch me come.” They locked eyes in an intense, electrically charged moment as he kept sucking desperately, hungry and needing to be fed.

A soft knock at the door made Miles freeze. Peter didn’t seem to notice as he pumped his cock balls-deep down Miles’ throat, fingers gripping black curls as he fucked the boy’s face.

“Everything okay, Peter?” The door swung open, and Mary Jane stood with eyes in headlights, a shriek on her lips. “Oh my god, Peter! What the hell are you doing? Get away from him!”

Peter couldn’t stop—past the point of no return. He released himself into Miles’ mouth, gasping wildly and hips driving into him again and again. Miles was powerless to pull away, intoxicated by the taste of Peter, the sounds he was making, the thought of being filled with his seed. He groaned softly as Peter drained himself down his throat, hands pushing Miles’ head down on him—Mary Jane looking on in panicked horror.

Everything went quiet, and Miles felt like he’d collapse with how fast and loud the blood was pounding in his head.

“Get out!” Peter shouted at her, finally sliding out of Miles’ mouth and pulling up his pants. Miles felt too dizzy to get up and settled for sitting down on the floor, his back leaning against the bed.

 _“You_ get out, Peter! You’re a goddamn monster! You’re a pedophile. Leave this child alone!”

Miles felt obligated to speak up. “I’m not a child,” was all he could choke out, feeling completely helpless to the situation.

Peter took a step toward her. “Don’t you _dare_ come any closer,” she hissed. “You’re a disgrace to my husband’s memory. Burn in hell,” she picked up a book off the table by the door and threw it at him.

And with that, she slammed the door.

Miles looked up at Peter, his heart and his head pounding.

“ _Fake bitch_ ,” Peter muttered under his breath. “Miles, we should go.”


	20. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, and sorry for the wait! I had to think long and hard about the direction I want this to go, and I feel good about where it’s headed now. Enjoy!

Miles was sitting on his bed at home, headphones blaring, thumbing through the pages of a Spider-Man comic. It was one from his own series—a comic deal Aunt May had helped him secure last year. The funny thing was, his dad knew he liked comics and bought these for him. “He’s a real hero—maybe you could learn a thing or two from him.” He wondered how much he made in royalties off the set.

Relaxing in his own room—away from Ganke’s endless intrusive questions and from Peter’s constant stress about the Mary Jane thing—almost made him feel like a normal teenager. Ever since the party incident, Miles had this sense of dread and anxiety looming over him. He was afraid to be seen with Peter—like the FBI were on standby waiting to pop out at any moment and take Peter away. He realized he was being paranoid, but he didn’t know the first thing about Mary Jane. He didn’t know what she was capable of. Everything felt so outside of his control, and hated that Mary Jane held so much power over them. But for a moment, he was just a kid hanging out in his room.

Miles’ mom gave a soft knock and came in to check on him, bringing a snack and fussing over him. She knew something was up—anyone could if they were paying attention. Miles wondered if his dad did, too.

“Everything okay, baby?” she ran a hand over his forehead like she was checking for a fever as she sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, I’m—“ he trailed off, unable to bring himself to say the word. He wasn’t okay. He offered her a weak smile instead.

She frowned, unconvinced. “Girl stuff, again?”

“Did dad tell you that? ‘Cause that’s not—“

“No, just a guess,” she sighed. “But if you want to talk about it, you know I’m always here.” She kissed his forehead.

Whenever he was with his mom, things were so easy. It was like he was a little kid again, when your mom is the center of your world. He knew she cared—it wasn’t like he didn’t know that. But how do you look your mom in the eyes and tell her—tell her what? That you’re gay? That you’re actually Spider-Man and you spend your nights patrolling the city with a grown man who happens to _also_ be the other Spider-Man? And oh, by the way, that other Spider-Man is from another dimension of existence before coming to our world and getting trapped here forever? And one last thing—you’re actually in love with him and you’ve been sneaking around to be together? Hard pass.

Something felt awful in the pit of his stomach, like he was going to be sick. He pushed the feeling down, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes.

“I’m fine, ma.”

* * *

“I uh, think I’m gonna tell my mom.”

Miles and Peter met on the corner down the street from Miles’ house. Peter had his jacket hood pulled up around his face, and Miles did the same. It felt like they were undercover, but it was a necessary precaution given everything they’d been through. Peter looked around before leaning in for a quick kiss and taking Miles’ bag for him.

“Tell your mom what?” he asked nonchalantly, as if they were talking about something as simple as telling his mom he was going for a walk. Peter slung Miles’ backpack over his shoulder and took his hand as they began the 16 block walk to Peter’s place.

“Um, I don’t know,” Miles knew he wouldn’t like it. “I guess I’m gonna tell her I’m—I’m not straight, for starters.” It was still so hard to say the word, even though he knew it was true. That he was gay.

Peter stopped dead in his tracks, letting go of Miles’ hand as people pushed past them on the sidewalk. “What? No you’re _not_ ,” he scoffed in disbelief. “Miles, listen. You can’t—no, this is a really bad idea. No, absolutely not. No.” He repeated the word a few more times, as if saying it enough would make Miles change his mind.

“You don’t get it, Peter. You never had to keep a secret like this. You don’t know what it’s like!”

Peter rolled his eyes and continued walking, Miles trailing just behind him. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s not like I have a secret identity or anything. No idea what that’s like.”

“But you told May!”

“That’s different. I only told her because she found out already. And what, you want them to know about that too? That you’re Spider-Man? What’s next, you’re gonna tell them about us while you’re at it?

“I don’t know, I’m just—I’m tired of living like this!” He caught up to Peter, taking his hand in his own again. “I’m tired of all the secrets.”

“If you want my opinion, I think you should wait until you’re at _least_ 18.”

“And what, spend the next year and a half feeling like a stranger in my own house? Like my parents don’t even know me at all? They literally don’t know anything about me, Peter!”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Easy for you to say.”

They arrived at Peter’s place and walked the 3 flights of stairs in silence—nothing but the sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs echoing through the narrow halls. Inside, they took off their shoes and cuddled up on the couch—Miles laying against Peter’s chest. Feeling the rising and falling of his breath was comforting enough that he cooled off a bit. It was easy to forget about all of it when he was in Peter’s arms.

“Miles,” Peter said against the boy’s hair, “there’s something you should know.” _Great_. More layers to his web of lies.

“Okay, but can you kiss me first?” Peter was more than happy to oblige. He leaned down, rubbing their noses together teasingly before laying a soft kiss on Miles’ lips—delaying the inevitable.

“God, I love you so much, Miles,” his gaze was wistful, like he was looking into Miles’ eyes but seeing something beyond them. “I don’t want you to panic, but—“

“I can’t _not_ panic if you say ‘don’t panic’!”

“Well, it’s about Mary Jane.”

“Shit, do we have to do this, Peter?”

Peter sighed, resting his face against Miles’ curls, wrapping his arms around him a little tighter. “Yeah,” his voice was discouraging. “She has...demands.”

Miles tried to sit up, but Peter just held him tighter. “Just listen,” he sighed. “Calm down a sec. She called me yesterday. And no, she hasn’t told anybody about—“

“—The Party Incident,” that was the official name now, The Party Incident. They referred to it as such every time it came up, which seemed to be a lot these days.

“Right, she hasn’t told anyone yet.”

_“Yet?!”_

“Well, it’s like I said. She has demands.”

“Can she do that? Isn’t that like blackmail or something?”

“Blackmail is gonna be the _least_ of anyone’s worries if word gets out. Anyway, she wants me to uh...”

“Do I really wanna know?”

“Eh, probably not. She wants me to date her.”

“Like, go on a date?”

“No, like be her boyfriend—in public, anyway. Bring her to all the public events and stuff. All the perks of dating Spider-Man without actually dating. She said maybe I’ll come to my senses and—“

“—Okay fine,” Miles sighed.

“Fine what?”

“Fine, we’ll do it.”

“Do what? We’re not doing anything, Miles! How could you say that?”

“Because I don’t want you to go to jail, Peter!”

“Nobody is going to jail! Let’s not blow this out of the water.”

“I can’t lose you, Peter. Please...you have to fix this,” he had never felt so childish and vulnerable as he did in that moment as Peter squeezed him tight.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Peter stroked his cheek soothingly. “Nothing is going to happen. She’s just jealous of what we have, but we can’t give her what she wants—we can’t give her that power.” He took Miles’ hand in his own, kissing his palm. “I don’t want people to see me with her...I want them to see me with you.”

“People seeing me with you is what got us into this!”

“I just meant—“ Peter sighed, “when we’re ready.”

* * *

“Who was that man you were with, Miles?”

“Huh?” Miles’ heart started pounding as he walked through the door and set his bag down at his parents’ house.

“‘Huh’, nothing. I need to know who you’re meeting up with.”

 _Shit_. How much had they seen? When Peter picked him up or brought him home, they were usually careful to meet a few blocks away from the prying eyes of Miles’ parents. Peter _had_ brought him almost to the door today because Miles had been sulking, but they both had their hoods pulled up around their faces when they _...kissed goodbye._ Miles’ heart sank.

They had both gotten more careless. It was no longer just Miles who would reach for a hand or chance a kiss. Peter was cracking, his defenses weakening. It had become too easy to be a little reckless when they were out together. Who would know if they snuck a kiss on their walk home or held hands on the bus?

Miles blinked a few times, at a loss for words.

“Miles—“ his mom started, her eyes pleading.

“Oh that? Um yeah, that’s my partner for my history project. He walked me home.”

“What’s his name?” his dad pressed. His tone was low and serious.

“It’s um...it’s Miles,” he looked down at the floor. _Smooth._

“Excuse me?”

“Y-yeah...funny story, actually. He sits behind me in history because we have the same name,” he couldn’t back down now. “It’s an alphabetical seating chart.”

“Right...” his dad cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Well you and...and _Miles_ , did you get a lot of work done?”

“Sort of,” Miles was uncomfortable now under his dad’s gaze. He stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Because it almost looked to me like you were...like you...” Miles watched as his mom hit the man in the arm, effectively cutting him off. “You just let me know next time you meet up with this... _other_ Miles. Your mom and I would love to...to meet him,” it was his dad who looked uncomfortable now.

“Okay, dad.”

* * *

On Sunday morning, Miles woke up at his parents’ house to a text from Peter.

 _‘_ We _have a problem.’_ No good morning, beautiful. No I love you. Just problems. _‘Meet at the bus stop? I’ll explain on the way.’_

Things were strained between them on the bus. They sat in the very last seat with a comfortable buffer of several rows between them and the other passengers. Their hoodies were pulled up around their faces, and Peter wore a baseball cap under his. Peter was clearly trying to distract him from the inevitable matter at hand—to delay the conversation. He wasted no time in taking Miles’ face in his hands, leaning down to kiss him. It was soft and gentle, Peter’s lips on his, Miles cuddled up against his side as Peter wrapped an arm around the smaller boy.

To Miles’ surprise, Peter took the kiss further. He brushed his thumb along Miles’ jaw, coaxing him to open up. Miles’ lips parted as Peter cautiously brought his tongue to the boy’s mouth, exploring slowly and deliberately. It was the furthest things had ever gone in a public place—well, not counting The Party Incident, or the rooftop—but there were real people around this time. Strangers, sure—but people nonetheless.

It wasn’t an unwelcome change—in a way it was exciting. Peter was usually so reserved with his affection unless they were alone at his apartment that Miles’ heart swelled at the gesture. This is what he’d wanted, after all—what he’d always wanted—to be with Peter with no strings attached, no compromises or precautions in place. Peter was finally opening up to that possibility, and Miles’ heart felt so light and free.

Even though he knew it was a distraction, a diversion—Miles returned his boyfriend’s kiss eagerly. He wrapped an arm around Peter’s belly, melting into him and reveling in how small Peter made him feel, how safe.

“Are you distracting me?” Miles whispered against the man’s lips.

“Is it working?” Peter smirked, teasing his tongue along Miles’.

“If you were trying to make me horny, then yeah it’s working.”

Something changed in Peter’s eyes just then. He furrowed his brow, and for a moment Miles thought he might come to his senses and back off. What he didn’t expect was for Peter’s hand to rest against Miles’ sweatpants and squeeze teasingly at his erection right there on the bus. Miles had to bite his lower lip to stifle a moan.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Should I stop?” Peter retracted his hand, running it through his messy brown hair and smirking at Miles with something like playful teasing in his eyes. “It’s okay...we can wait.”

Miles’ dug his fingers into Peter’s arm, “please?”

“Please what, baby?” Peter whispered into his ear, sending a chill down his neck.

“Please touch me.”

“Touch you where?”

“I...I don’t...c’mon, Peter.”

“You have to say it,” Peter breathed in a faint whisper against his ear, kissing it softly. He squeezed the boy’s thigh, inches lower than where Miles wanted it. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Touch my dick,” Miles hissed, his hips lifting off the bus seat in search of that big, warm hand again.

“I’m not sure,” Peter was grinning smugly now, clearly enjoying the torture he was inflicting on the boy. “We might get caught,” he brushed his fingertips over Miles’ cock through the material to punctuate his words before pulling back again.

“I know,” Miles whimpered. They were walking a dangerous line—one they’d unwittingly crossed before. He liked the excitement, craved it. It was what he was missing in his life, having been deprived any thrill in their Spider-Man excursions anymore. He wanted to feel the rush again. He thought about the Party Incident, how vulnerable and powerless he felt as Peter used his body. He thought about getting caught, and the exhilaration that stirred in the pit of his belly as Peter just kept going anyway. “Just touch it.” Feeling emboldened, Miles took his jacket off, wiggling his arms out before placing it over his lap to conceal his arousal. He looked up at Peter, his eyes innocent but his smirk daring Peter to do it.

Peter looked around the bus. There were a few others in the rows ahead, but nobody paid them any mind as they sat huddled up in the back row. _“_ _You are trouble,”_ Peter shook his head before reluctantly slipping a hand beneath the jacket.

Miles had his waistband pulled down with one hand, his dick resting against his belly. He was already so hard just thinking about how much trouble they’d be in if they got caught. _Did he want to get caught again?_ Maybe not, but the risk made his cock ache in anticipation.

He stifled a hiss as Peter wrapped one of those deliciously large hands around him, stroking hesitantly. The movements were cautious and reserved, and he could see that Peter was nervous. He could feel it in the way Peter pumped at him slowly and with no rhythm or pacing. Just haphazard tugs and strokes as he looked around the bus, eyeing everyone suspiciously. “Please, Peter,” he whispered in a plea for more—anything more than this.

Peter couldn’t look him in the eyes, and it was maddening. He was too preoccupied with keeping tabs on the other bus riders. Still, he smirked as he stilled his hand. “Please stop?”

“No no no,” Miles begged, his hips involuntarily lifting off the bench. “More...please.”

“More what?” Peter whispered, his thumb teasing the slick head of Miles’ cock, almost eliciting a groan before Miles bit his lip _hard_ to withhold it. The metallic taste of blood tainted his lips.

“Touch me...make me come,” he choked out, barely a whisper.

Peter didn’t have any smart ass remarks this time—no snarky grin or eyebrow cocked teasingly. He got to work, pumping his fist on Miles’ dick—a thin jacket acting as the sole defense against a bus full of strangers discovering their forbidden act. Miles knew he wouldn’t need long as Peter jerked him off with a firm, steady pace. He wanted to know what it would feel like to come in front of a bus full of unsuspecting strangers.

In his darkest fantasies he indulged only late at night when he was alone with nothing but his own hand and his thoughts, he wanted them to know. He wanted people to see how Peter owned him, how he unravelled at the touch of a man two and a half times his age. In those moments of depraved self-gratification, he would willingly toss the jacket aside, baring himself for everyone to see as Peter stroked at him. It was that fantasy that sent him barreling over the edge, cum dribbling down Peter’s knuckles and over the jacket. He tried so hard to be quiet, but couldn’t smother a loud gasp as he panted for air. Peter clasped his free hand over Miles’ mouth, and whether anyone noticed or heard was of no consequence to Miles in his moment of ecstasy. He closed his eyes and lost himself to the feeling.

* * *

Peter never did have time to explain what exactly their imminent problem was on the bus ride to Queens, though Miles could wager a guess.

  
When Aunt May greeted the two Spider-Men at the front door, her expression spoke volumes. It wasn’t lost on Miles that the older woman looked around cautiously before shutting the door—as if she were scanning for any prying eyes upon them. Still, she hugged them briefly as she shuffled them inside. When they sat around the kitchen table, the weight of May’s gaze on them was like a cloud hanging over them.

“I know what happened at my party,” May’s brow was furrowed in an identical display to Peter’s, and in that moment Miles was in awe of how much their features and expressions mirrored one another. “Do you have something you want to say to me?” His heart sank at the disappointment in the woman’s voice. _How much did she know?_

“How much do you know?” Peter’s mind must have gone to the same place. 

“Enough,” she frowned. “I’m sure there’s more to the story, but what I know is enough. Any more than that, I don’t want to hear about it.” She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair from where she sat across from the two Spider-Men.

Miles couldn’t bring himself to make any words. It was like his tongue was too heavy in his mouth and his lips wouldn’t unstick to say them. And what could he say, anyway? ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’? Sorry didn’t change anything. He wasn’t sorry for what they’d done, and he would _never_ be sorry for what he and Peter had together. If anything, he was sorry that Aunt May had to get involved...that it had happened in her house. Once again, Miles felt like a child overhearing an adult conversation. He was powerless.

“Whatever she told you—“

“What she _told_ me,” Aunt May admonished, “was for Miles’ protection.” She didn’t raise her voice, but her tone conveyed the gravity of the situation. “And for what it’s worth, I believe her.”

“Miles can protect himself,” Peter snapped. Miles looked at him from the corner of his eye, his heart swelling with adoration for the man. Peter was finally starting to see him as an equal. He reached down under the table to find Peter’s hand, and it was sweaty like his own. Peter took Miles’ smaller hand and squeezed it with firm reassurance. In that moment, it almost felt like everything would be okay.

“Look,” May’s voice softened to something like understanding...empathy, even. “I get it. Miles, you’re young and in love. Peter, you’re...dumb and in love. But you’re both living in a bubble, blissfully unaware of what you’re risking. Well I’m here to tell you, it ends today. I mean it—if you want to be together, if you want this to work, this isn’t the way.”

“I won’t be without him,” now it was Peter who was crossing his arms against his chest in a show of defiance. “They’ll have to lock me up.”

“Oh my god, Peter. Don’t be so melodramatic,” May visibly rolled her eyes. “Nobody is going to jail. But I can’t sit here and watch you both sneaking around like this—under _my_ roof, might I add! You’re putting too much on the line. We’re going to have to figure this out.”

Miles’ eyes scanned back and forth between Aunt May and Peter like a game of dysfunctional ping pong as he sat helplessly by.

“So what are you saying?” Peter asked.

“I can help you,” May said carefully, “but we’re going to do this _my_ way, or not at all.”

“And if we refuse?”

“Then I can’t protect you anymore,” her eyes flashed with pain. “But just know, I did everything I could to help you...as if you were my own.” She looked directly at Miles, “both of you.”

Miles’ heart felt heavy with guilt. He loved Aunt May as if she were _his_ own. She was the only parental figure in his life he could open himself up to completely—who really knew him for exactly who he was. She deserved better. It was Miles who finally spoke up this time. “We’ll do it.”


	21. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a long time to write this. Please accept my peace offering of 5k+ words (most of them sex).

“Do what, Miles? You don’t even know what you just agreed to!” They sat in Aunt May’s kitchen as Miles watched everything fall out from beneath him.

“He _knows_ this isn’t working, that’s what. When you were Miles’ age, you were living a double life. Miles is living 4 of them! You’re being selfish Peter. The only one your secret arrangement is convenient for is _you._ ”

Miles felt like he was going to cry. He knew the tears were coming, but was powerless to stop them from welling up in his eyes. He sniffled loudly.

“Look, you’re upsetting him!” Peter squeezed Miles’ shoulder with firm reassurance.

“Miles, honey,” Aunt May’s voice softened. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You want to find a way for your parents to understand, don’t you? To know who you are? To let them be part of your life again?” Miles nodded. “Then I need you to listen carefully.”

“Miles, this isn’t what you want—“

Aunt May put a hand up to silence him. “The only way this plan is going to work is if you come clean and tell them _everything_.”

“What do you mean, ‘ _everything_ ’?” Peter scoffed.

“I mean everything. They have to know who he is. They were going to find out eventually, but we’re doing it on Miles’ terms. His father respects Spider-Man...he’ll understand.”

“Spider-man? Spider—oh come on, you want him to tell them about the Spider-Man thing now, too?”

“Miles is an...emotionally fragile...boy,” when she said it that way, Miles felt like he was being pitied. It made him feel weak. “Your experience as a teenage superhero isn’t the same as his—you have to understand that, Peter.”

“I understand that you’re forcing him into a corner,” Peter grumbled.

“He needs the support of his parents. You had somebody who was there for you, looking out for you and picking you back up, didn’t you?”

“He has _me_!”

“And look where that’s gotten him!” She sighed, softening her voice once more, “What about your Aunt May, Peter? Try and remember what it was like.”

“She was—“ Peter’s expression softened, “—she was my guardian angel.” That surprised Miles to hear; he didn’t talk about her much at all.

“Me and my Peter—we were a team,” Aunt May nodded, knowingly. “Is this what you want, Miles?”

He nodded slowly, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “I love my mom and dad. I want them to know me. It’s so hard,” his voice cracked on his words. “My uncle Aaron—“ he sniffled again, his eyes filling with more tears, “he would’ve—“

“It’s okay, Miles. I think if your uncle were here, he would be very proud of you. But I know that your parents will be even more proud, if you let them in. They may even grow to accept Peter, in time.”

“What do you—oh,” Peter’s eyes went wide with realization. “Oh no you don’t,” he shook his head. “Do you even know what you’re asking him to do?”

“What?” Miles asked, feeling confused.

“She wants you to tell them about us.”

“What?” Miles was startled. “Nah, listen...I can’t—“

“I need you to trust me.”

This was starting to feel like too much. It overwhelmed him and filled him with a sense of dread. Miles spoke carefully, finding his voice. “So you want me to tell my parents that I’m _gay_. And that I’m _Spider-Man._ And that I’m with _Peter_?” he counted each one off on his fingers. “Are you trying to kill my dad? He’s gonna have a heart attack—you know that, right? I can’t do that to him.”

“You’re not listening and you’re not trusting me, Miles. Have I ever given you bad advice? Have I ever led you down the wrong path—either of you?” Both of them shook their heads. “Haven’t I gotten you both set up comfortably so that you don’t have to rely on a life of fighting crime? So that you have options?” They nodded this time.

“I have an idea,” she continued, “but it’s going to require some...embellishment. I may have said we’re going to tell them _everything_ , but never said we can’t throw in some _extra_ details.”

Miles didn’t like this. He knew for damn sure Peter didn’t, either. “What kind of details?” he asked.

“I don’t want you to worry about that just yet. All I need you to worry about is the first one. You can start by telling your parents that you won’t be bringing any girls home to meet them,” she turned to look Miles in the eye. “You’ve already been thinking of telling them.”

“Yeah...” it was true, Miles had been toying with the idea for some time now. “Yeah, okay. Yeah,” it was almost like he was trying to convince himself he could, psyching himself up. “I can do that.”

* * *

Later that night, Miles was back home packing his things for the upcoming school week. He haphazardly stuffed some clean clothes in his suitcase and dumped a cup of pens and pencils on top.

“Socks,” he mumbled under his breath, “laptop charger, toothpaste—“ he cracked open his bedroom door. “Mom?”

She appeared moments later, holding out a tube of toothpaste.

“Are you a mind reader?”

“All moms are mind readers,” she smirked.

He sighed, tossing the toothpaste in his suitcase. This was either going to be his moment, or it was going to slip away. His dad had picked up an extra night shift and was gone for the evening, so now was as good a time as he was going to get.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion and his stomach was twisting in knots.

“Not about _everything_ ,” he rubbed at his neck nervously.

His mom could sense something was up, like she always did. Maybe she _was_ a mind reader. She came in and sat on Miles’ bed.

“Didn’t I teach you how to fold clothes?” she laughed, dumping his suitcase on the bed. “Let me help.” She started folding his clothes into neat piles, and Miles sat down on the other side of the bed to help her.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he started slowly as he stacked his socks into a pile on his lap. He just had to get through this one thing, he reminded himself. Just this one.

His mom looked up at him from her folding with a reassuring smile. Miles took her silence as an invitation to continue.

“There’s something...you should know,” why was this so awkward? He knew it would be hard, but hadn’t considered how uncomfortably awkward it would be. This was somehow worse than _the_ _talk_ his dad had given him a few years back. There was no way he could tell his dad—not yet, anyway. “I mean, I guess it’s something _about_ me you don’t know. And I just—“

“—Miles, you don’t have to...” _Did she know? Was she reading his mind right now?_

“No, I need to do this.” He looked at her now, gaining confidence. She was smiling softly, but her sad eyes betrayed the worry on her face. “Mom, I’m...”

His brain felt fuzzy as familiar images flashed wildly through his mind, unable to stop them from invading his thoughts. He knew it was a Spider-Man thing, but it disoriented him as he saw flashes of Peter’s face. Aunt May’s identical expression. That girl in his class that asked him out at the pizza place whose name he couldn’t even remember. The security guard on the rooftop. His art teacher. Mary Jane walking in on them at the party. The look on his dad’s face when Miles said he didn’t have to worry about him with any girls.

He shook his head as if to empty it from the mental intrusion. “I’m gay.” Blood was pounding in his head so loud he could hear it. It made him feel dizzy and lightheaded. Did he say it out loud, or was it only in his head? He wasn’t sure. The word ‘gay’ was echoing over and over in his head as if it were mocking him, but each time he heard it he knew it was true.

“Oh, Miles,” his mom looked up at him with a face that might have been pity. “Miles, I—“ she sighed, setting down the shirt she had been folding, “are you sure?”

Was he _sure_? He had asked himself that same question more times than he could remember, as if somehow it could all be some misunderstanding. As if falling in love with a man could possibly be some coming-of-age rite of passage that all boys went through. As if he were just a late bloomer and would wake up one morning and realize he liked girls after all. As if he didn’t long for the day he would marry Peter, dreaming the rest of their lives together away. As if he didn’t choke down Peter’s cock like his life depended on it at every chance he had.

Yeah, he was sure. He nodded.

His mom reached out and pulled him in for a hug, holding him close. “It’s okay,” she whispered, even though she didn’t sound entirely convincing. He hugged her back. “It’s gonna be okay.”

In that moment, it felt like the world might not collapse from beneath him after all. He breathed a sigh of relief he didn’t know he’d been holding in. 

“That boy from your class—“

“Miles?” he was such a bad liar. “He’s not—we’re not...”

“Oh,” she pulled Miles back a bit to look him in the eyes, holding his shoulders in her hands. “If you were,” she said carefully, “there’s nothing wrong with that. Okay, Miles?”

He couldn’t look her in the eyes, instead looking down at the socks in his lap. If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be so forgiving.

“I need you to know,” she pulled him in close again, “I’m so proud of you. It doesn’t change anything—it doesn’t change who you are.”

* * *

“She knows,” Miles all but collapsed into Peter’s arms as the older Spider-Man climbed through Miles’ dorm window. “It’s done.” It was Sunday night, and after their talk, Miles’ mom had dropped him off at school. They were alone. Ganke didn’t spend Sunday nights at school, and he’d gotten used to finding them asleep on the top bunk when he arrived on Monday mornings, even though Miles still felt weird about it.

Peter collected the boy in his arms, holding him close against his body in a tight embrace—Miles’ arms clasped around the older man’s waist as he melted into him. Peter’s arms were strong and reassuring and safe around his smaller frame. 

In that moment, none of it mattered—any of it. The Party Incident, the ultimatums, the confessions, the look of disappointment on his mom’s face when she whispered “are you sure?”—they were inconsequential when his body was enveloped in Peter’s arms. It all melted away—or it would have if Peter had the decency to allow him more than a fleeting moment to relish the feeling.

“What about your dad?”

“I will,” Miles mumbled against the soft flesh of Peter’s neck, “I just need more time, man.”

“Uh huh,” Miles could practically feel Peter’s eyes rolling. “Well, when this all backfires spectacularly—oh, and it _will_ —don’t be surprised when I say I—“

“— _told you so_.” Miles was the one rolling his eyes this time.

“Yeah, that. Because I _will_ say it, you know.”

“I know, Peter,” Miles said flatly. “What else would you have me do, let him put two and two together and find out the hard way on his own?”

“He’s not going to.”

“Then why did he see us together yesterday?” It felt silly bickering back and forth as they clung to one another. Even when they argued, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

“He saw us?” Peter sounded genuinely taken aback.

“Yeah...” he hesitated a moment, not wanting to worry Peter with everything else going on that he’d been stressing about. “Don’t sweat it. You’re a boy named Miles from my history class now,” he mumbled against Peter’s neck. “Don’t ask.”

They made their way to the top bunk and Miles cuddled up against his partner’s side. He flung an arm and a leg over Peter and lay his head on the man’s shoulder.

“Do you really think I’m making a mistake?” Miles murmured into Peter’s neck. Peter didn’t answer for a long while. 

“Maybe,” he kissed Miles’ forehead. “I just want you to be happy—and I’m not sure this is going to make you happy when it’s all over.”

“I can still back out.”

“Is that what you want?” Peter looked down at him.

“I don’t know...” Miles shook his head. “No, not really.”

“Then you should do it.”

“I just...I need your support,” Miles bit his lip, trying to keep his composure. He was in over his head. “I can’t do it without you.”

“Once your dad knows about Spider-Man, he’s never gonna let you out of his sight. You know that, right?”

“How’s that any different from now?”

“I’m serious, Miles. Things will change. We...we might not see each other as much anymore.”

“Why would you say that?” Miles sounded hurt.

“You think your dad is gonna let you keep sneaking around, staying at my place, coming and going as you please? He’s gonna have you on lockdown. And when he does, I’m gonna say—“

“—I know, I know. _I told you so_ , yeah. I get it, Peter.”

“And you can forget about night patrols,” Peter continued. He had an answer for everything—it really got on Miles’ nerves. It was like Peter went out of his way to make Miles feel like a naive child—like Miles didn’t understand how the world worked yet.

“Who cares? The only thing we do on night patrol is...“ he trailed off, his cheeks flushing when he thought about the last time they were on a roof together. There was a long silence that followed.

Peter brought his lips to Miles’ ear, his breath making the hair on the boy’s neck stand on end. “Is what?”

Miles buried his face in the crook of Peter’s neck and shook his head at the question, “I dunno.”

“Say it,” Peter breathed into his ear. “What did we do on our last patrol...do you remember?”

Miles nodded.

“Tell me what I did to you.” It was a command, not a question.

Peter made no secret of his weakness for hearing Miles speak sexually, taking every opportunity he could to draw out the boy’s dirtiest thoughts and hear them aloud. Miles was getting better at it, but it still made him feel shy and embarrassed. He could tell Peter liked that—got off on how vulnerable Miles felt under his command. Miles liked it too, intoxicated by the dynamic they shared in those intimate moments.

“Uh, you strapped me down and gagged me,” he whispered into Peter’s neck, feeling himself get a little hard at the sexual turn their conversation had taken so suddenly.

“What else?”

He closed his eyes as if somehow that would make the words slide off his tongue with ease, that he wouldn’t feel so embarrassed to say them, “you fucked me.”

“And you looked so perfect,” Peter shifted them so he was leaning over Miles, looking down at him, “taking my cock in your suit.”

Miles nodded, “I liked you in your suit, too.”

“Yeah?” Peter smirked, looking pleased with himself. “I bet you always wanted to fuck Spider-Man, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Miles’ cheeks flushed. “It was on my list.”

“Oh a list, huh? I didn’t know we were doing lists...”

“Yeah, well,” Miles shrugged “I’m not a kid anymore, Peter.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” he mused. “What else is on this list of yours? Like sex stuff?”

“I ain’t sayin’,” Miles frowned, but the hint of a smirk at the corners of his lips betrayed him. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I bet I could get it out of you,” Peter trailed kisses down the boy’s neck, brushing lips across his chest before teasing at his nipple. “I’m really persuasive.” He nibbled on it to prove his point.

“Ah!” Miles gasped, the mix of pleasure and pain a welcome and familiar sensation.

“What else is on your list?” Peter leaned down to breathe the words teasingly into Miles’ ear before flicking the tip of his tongue over it. “I know you’re thinking about something. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Miles’ breath was heavy and disjointed as he gasped at the sensations Peter’s mouth was creating. “I-I always wanted—ah!—wanted to, um—“ Miles wished he could hide his face but Peter was leaning right over him and there was nowhere to escape his piercing gaze. He closed his own eyes, still shy about expressing his sexuality even after all they’d been through together. “I-I can’t, Peter.”

“You’re so cute when you’re shy. Look at me,” he gently clasped Miles’ cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb across the boy’s lips. “I wanna take care of you. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted if you let me. You don’t have to be nervous.”

“I want to fuck you...I want to know what it feels like inside of you, Peter,” he closed eyes tight, wanting nothing more than to be invisible in that moment.

“Oh...wow.” Peter’s voice was a mix of shock and amusement, and it made Miles feel childish. Of course Peter wouldn’t want that. Why did he even say it? “Hey buddy, come back to me,” Peter laughed. “I can’t see you.”

“Oh,” Miles had disappeared, which was somehow infinitely more embarrassing. He tried to reappear but he was too nervous. His hands were shaking. Peter was smirking, amused at the situation. “I-I can’t. It’s not working.”

“Am I making you nervous?” Peter’s voice was gentle and soothing.

“Yeah...a little.”

“It’s okay, Miles. Let’s talk about it. Will that help?”

“No, it’s...embarrassing.”

“It’s _not_...I want you to.”

 _Huh_ , that gave Miles pause. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting. He couldn’t say anything, just lay there invisible, frozen in embarrassment.

“I want you to do it, Miles,” he repeated.

“Come on, don’t say that. No you don’t.”

“I mean, truthfully I hadn’t thought about it before. I think you know by now that I like to be...in charge.” Peter curled up beside the invisible Miles, finding his chest and laying his head there. “But I...I want to try it for you. I think I can take you.”

Miles reappeared. He was so hard in his sweatpants. He knew Peter noticed, even in the dark moonlit room. His spider senses could _feel_ Peter’s eyes on him, sizing him up and maybe considering the proposition. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter slid his hand down Miles’ belly, fingers trailing over the material of his t-shirt before finally coming to rest on the boy’s cock, straining against his sweatpants. He traced the outline with his finger, and Miles hoped maybe in that moment he was thinking about how it’d fit inside of him. “I’m kinda nervous, Miles.”

“No you’re not,” Miles hissed at the feeling of Peter’s hand pressing against him, wanting more—wanting to feel skin against skin. Was he supposed to take charge, or would Peter guide him through it? He didn’t know what to do, and the indecision was overwhelming. He was afraid he might disappear again, when Peter’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Let’s get undressed,” it wasn’t the same level of assertion Miles was used to, but he was thankful for Peter to get things started. The two Spider-Men carefully maneuvered around the uncomfortably small space of Miles’ bunk bed as they stripped off their clothes, piling them at the foot of the bed.

“Should I um,” Miles felt so unqualified for this. He wanted Peter to take control of things, but he didn’t know how to ask.

Peter seemed to pick up on his hesitation and took mercy on him. Miles watched curiously as Peter took the pillow and moved it down a bit lower on the bed. “Lay down, Miles.” His tone was softer and less commanding than usual, but he seemed to understand Miles needed some guidance. “On your side.”

Miles lay on his side, head resting on the pillow, his body tingling with nerves and excitement. He watched as Peter went opposite him, laying the wrong way on the bed. His feet were at the head of the bed—his face just inches from Miles’ cock, and Miles’ face just inches from his. This was different. It took Miles a moment longer than it should’ve to realize what they were about to do. This was _definitely_ on his list.

Peter coaxed Miles’ legs open a bit so he could rest his head on the boy’s thigh, and Miles mirrored him, doing the same. He was painfully hard, Peter’s breath ghosting across his cock. He wasn’t sure which he wanted more—to feel Peter’s lips around him, tongue sliding down his length, or to taste Peter, feeling the man’s cock throbbing between his lips. He made the first move.

He took the head of Peter’s cock between his lips, moaning softly as he gently sucked at it. Peter did the same, taking Miles in his own mouth, sucking at him teasingly. “Do you like this?”

Miles hummed a soft “mhmm” in agreement as he took Peter in deeper, feeling him at the back of his throat. He was good at this now—didn’t gag as much as he used to. Peter mirrored his movements, both of them slow and gentle, sucking at each other in a relaxed pace. Miles was overwhelmed by the feeling of being sucked at the same time as his mouth being full of Peter, tasting salty flesh and feeling skin against skin as his lips slid up and down his length. It was almost too much—so slow and sensual—he had to stop himself before finishing down Peter’s throat.

He and Peter must have been on the same wavelength, because Peter backed off, kissing the head of Miles’ dick instead, brushing his lips against the slick skin, swirling his tongue over the head. Miles did the same, reveling in how good it felt to mirror each other’s movements, to make each other feel the same sensations together at the same time.

“Miles,” Peter whispered, his breath a warm breeze across Miles’ wet cock.

“Peter.”

As if reading one another’s mind, they took each other’s lengths once more. The slow pace was erotic and intense, and the sounds Peter was making as he lovingly sucked at Miles, choking him down, were intoxicating. Miles whimpered around Peter’s dick, taking the older man deeper down his throat too. He couldn’t stop himself from slowly rocking his hips, lazily fucking Peter’s throat, overcome with ecstasy. Peter’s hips were rocking too, both of them calm and steady. He was so close—he couldn’t let it end like this. He stilled his hips, and Peter did too. They lay like that for a long while, still and silent except for soft sucking sounds and heavy breathing.

When Peter pulled away, Miles gasped in protest at the loss of his mouth and his cock. Peter, who even when naked wore his web shooters (“Spider-Man lesson number 2, always be prepared”)—which Miles thought was kind of hot—leaned over the side of the bed and shot a web toward Miles’ desk, effectively sticking on a bottle of lube.

He tossed it into Miles’ hands. “Have at it, kid.”

 _Okay, so Peter wanted him to take charge. He could do that...right?_ He but his lip nervously as he sat up. They shifted around the tight space, and to his amazement, Peter lay face-down on the bed, offering up his ass for the taking.

“Oh, you ready, huh?” Miles laughed nervously.

“Yeah,” Peter breathed out so quietly, Miles could barely hear him. “Come on, Miles.”

Miles opened the lube, squeezing way too much into his hand. It was flowing down his wrist, dripping onto the sheets. His hands were shaking as he stroked his slick and messy palm over his aching hard dick. Peter lay still in silent anticipation, and Miles knew it was up to him now to take over. Would Peter expect him to be aggressive? Gentle and submissive? He didn’t know what to do. He froze.

“Get it ready,” Peter instructed him—not a command, but a suggestion. “Use your fingers.”

Miles snapped out of his daze and swiped a bit more lube from his palm onto his two fingers, getting them slippery and wet. He wiped his free hand dry on the sheets. Leaning over Peter, Miles placed his hand on Peter’s ass, giving it a squeeze and spreading him open a bit. With his other hand, he pressed slick fingers between Peter’s ass cheeks against his opening. He stayed like that for a moment too long until Peter was lifting his hips in search of more.

Miles took the encouragement and slipped a finger inside. That made Peter gasp. He was warm and wet and tight, clenched around Miles’ finger as it slid it in and out slowly. Miles was deep in concentration, trying not to get lost in the moment and rush to the part where he’d replace his finger with his dick. He had to focus—he put another finger in. Peter seemed to like that—or maybe he didn’t—but he gasped loudly then, his breath hitching in the back of his throat. Miles built up a steady rhythm. _In_ —Peter hissed. _Out_. _In_ —Peter was gripping the sheets now. _Out_.

“Okay I’m ready, Miles,” he choked out, and it was convincing enough that Miles removed his two fingers carefully, wiping them on the sheets. Miles’ was so nervous his blood was pounding in his ears. He squeezed a little more lube into his hand for good measure, sliding his wet hand up his shaft and circling it over the head to get it nice and wet. He wiped his hand on the sheet (he’d have to wash those) before trailing it across Peter’s ass. It was perfectly round and mostly smooth with some freckles dotted over pale skin—why hadn’t he ever gotten a good look at it before?

“I’m ready, too,” he sighed. “Get on your knees.” It was the first time Miles had ever given the man a command, and seeing Peter respond positively as he got on his hands and knees was a power he’d never experienced before. _Could he actually maybe do this?_

Miles nudged Peter’s legs open a little wider as he positioned himself behind. His mind flashed back to his first time—him on the receiving end, Peter trying his best to slow his hips as he pushed his way erratically into Miles, the burning and prickling pain that gave way to unfamiliar waves of pleasure inside of him. The thought of Peter experiencing those same feelings and emotions was deeply arousing and exciting, and gave him the encouragement he needed to push the head of his cock against Peter’s entrance. It gave way to him, and he slipped in easier than he anticipated—just at the tip.

Peter grunted...that was the only way Miles could describe it. The sound was so raw and emotional and Miles pushed his way in deeper, so slow he could hardly stand it. He gripped Peter’s hips, his fingertips digging in harder than he could help. “Does it hurt?”

Peter cried out as Miles’ hips went flush with his ass, the boy’s cock buried as deep as he could go. “Yeah!” he all-but-shouted. “Keep going.”

Miles pulled out so painfully slow, as far as he possibly could. “Peter I...it feels so good.” He couldn’t stop himself from thrusting in _hard_ , so hard it made a loud slapping sound as his hips met with Peter’s ass once more. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t stop, Miles. I want you to pound me.” Peter was panting and clawing at the sheets, and Miles had never seen him this way. “Make it hurt. I can take it.”

“Shit,” Miles cried out as he allowed himself another deep thrust into Peter before stilling his hips again. “Peter, I don’t—“

“I _want_ it to hurt, Miles,” Peter choked out. “Fuck me.”

Miles complied, not wasting any time in getting his hips going. He pounded into Peter over and over, allowing himself to lose control with each thrust. Did Peter like being hurt? He’d never seen that side of him before. What else didn’t he know about him? Did he like being submissive too?

“You love it,” Miles tried to project his voice, to sound assertive and self-assured. It came out as a whimper. “You love getting that ass destroyed.” _Where did that come from?_ Wow. He didn’t know he had it in him, but Peter seemed to like that.

“Oh my god,” Peter cried out, his breath catching each time Miles drove into him. “Yes, Miles. Yes. Oh my god, yes.” The older man no longer seemed capable of forming coherent thoughts, unraveling before his eyes.

“Turn over,” Miles commanded, “so I can see you getting fucked.” His cheeks flushed, feeling aroused and embarrassed and unsure of himself, but wanting more anyway—hoping he was doing the right things, saying the right words.

Peter complied, laying on his back and lifting up his legs to allow the smaller boy easier access. “Please, baby.” Miles positioned Peter’s legs over his shoulders—something they did often but with Miles on the receiving end.

He smirked, remembering immediately the words Peter often said to him in times like these. “You have to say it,” he chuckled, pressing his cock against Peter’s opening but nothing more. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want you to fuck me up. I want you to break me,” Peter gasped out. Miles thought maybe he finally understood why Peter liked this so much—liked having the control, liked hearing Miles unravel beneath him and beg and plead. Miles liked it too, even though he felt childish and embarrassed at his own inexperience. But the power—that felt really good. He wanted to test the limits of how far he could go with it.

He buried his cock deep inside Peter. Their eyes were locked in an intense gaze as he let himself go—hips rocking like crazy, both Spider-Men panting wildly, bodies slick with sweat. Peter cried out again and again—or was that him? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but him and Peter connected in that moment, bodies joined and hearts beating together. Miles leaned down to kiss his partner, slipping his tongue between Peter’s lips. Peter held him so tight, wrapping his legs around Miles’ body like he’d never let go.

When they came up for air, Miles choked out another command. “Touch yourself. Stroke that cock for me.” Was he getting good at this? Peter seemed to think so. Still, he blushed at his own proposition as Peter slipped a hand in the tight space between them.

The bed was shaking, tapping against the wall as they went at it. Then, _confusion_ as a door opened. _His_ door—was someone in the room?

“Miles?”

It was Ganke. Miles clasped a hand over Peter’s mouth, collapsing on him and laying dead still.

Ganke didn’t turn on the light, just threw his bag down on the floor. It was late—sometime past midnight. His roommate rummaged around the room looking for something before climbing into the bottom bunk without a word. They hadn’t been caught. Miles let out a sigh of relief.

Peter stared at him through the darkness with eyes wide, erection pressed into Miles’ belly, clenched tight around his dick. Miles bit his lip to stifle a groan as he took in the sight of Peter—crazy hair, eyes half lidded, chest heaving. He pressed a finger against his lips, warning Peter to keep quiet. Miles pulled the blanket over them, as if that would somehow make getting caught less obvious. Pressing their foreheads together he saw Peter mouth a silent “please”. He didn’t want to risk shaking the bed, but he couldn’t stop himself. Peter felt so good, stopping wasn’t even an option. He slid his cock out so painfully slow that Peter squeezed his eyes shut tight. And just before he couldn’t go any further, he teased just the head of his dick in and out of Peter’s entrance a few times, before easing it back in.

He lay there sliding in and out of Peter painstakingly slow—methodically, cautiously—timing his thrusts with each drawn out breath, his hand still covering Peter’s mouth. Miles listened for any movement below before he licked his hand, getting it slick with spit and slipping it between them to grasp Peter’s erection. He stroked agonizingly slow to match the rhythm of his hips—pausing between each thrust and stroke. Peter’s legs were shaking—he was close. Miles already knew. He was close too.

He leaned down to breathe whispered words in Peter’s ear, “Gonna fill you up.” It was the faintest breath, barely a sound. “Take my cum.” He wondered if Peter would notice he learned that line from him—that _e_ _verything_ he said was something he learned from Peter.

In agony at the maddeningly-slow pace Miles had taken, Peter pushed the boy’s hand away, grabbing his own cock and pumping frantically. Miles watched Peter bring himself to the edge, trying to time it just right as he brought himself over too, his thrusts getting faster to match the speed that Peter was jacking himself off. Losing control.

The bed was tap-tap-tapping against the wall again, and Miles silently pumped his load deep inside of Peter—nothing but the sound of heavy panting and the tapping of the metal bed frame against the wall.

“Are you guys having sex?”

“No,” Peter groaned, making it painfully obvious they _were_ having sex as he spilled his load all over his hand and belly. “Ah! No.”

“You can keep going,” Ganke sounded amused. And then everything was quiet.

Miles wanted to disappear—and maybe he did, he wasn’t sure. Peter reached out for him—was clinging to him so tight, kissing him, stroking his hair, squeezing his ass, nuzzling into him. As if to say he’d done a good job—that maybe he’d done something right. That thought calmed his pounding heart as he reappeared in Peter’s arms. They gathered their clothes and fell asleep.


	22. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess what kind of mood I’m in?

“Hey I’m sorry about...last night,” Miles looked around to ensure they were out of earshot. He and Ganke were eating lunch at a picnic table outside.

“Dude, you never told me you guys are having sex. That’s messed up!” he folded his arms defiantly. “I thought I’d be the first to know!”

“I didn’t think you—“

“When did it happen?” Ganke interrupted. “You know, like the first time?”

“I don’t know, man. Like almost two months ago?”

“Wow,” Ganke was smirking at the realization. “Do you guys do freaky Spider-Man shit?”

“What?”

“Like does he shoot webs out of his dick?”

“What the—nah, man. You got no chill.” He looked at his friend disapprovingly. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to—“

“—have sex in our bed?”

“Don’t say ‘ _our bed_ ’, that sounds weird,” Miles frowned. “I didn’t think you were gonna be back ‘til the morning. Next time we’ll just—“

“Next time, huh?” Ganke grinned.

“—go back to Peter’s,” Miles finished.

“It’s cool,” Ganke shrugged. “I don’t mind if you guys wanna screw in our bed when I’m not there... _or when I’m there,_ ” he added under his breath. “It’s whatever.”

“ _When you’re there_?”

Ganke laughed nervously, “I mean, it’s more exciting than porn.”

“Yeah, if you like gay porn,” Miles teased.

“I’ll take what I can get,” he shrugged.

* * *

In art class, Mr. Garcia had them pair up for an art project. When he got to Miles and Ganke’s table, he looked the two boys over and frowned.

“Mr. Lee and Mr. Morales,” he looked them over suspiciously. “Didn’t you two pair up on the shadow box project last week? And last month’s mural?” Both boys shrugged in unison.

“I think,” he sighed, “I’m going to split you up. Mila,“ Miles’ heart sank as he saw the girl beaming at him across the room. That was her name—Mila, from the pizza place. He’d never noticed her in art class before. “Please come over and join Ganke.” Miles breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“Miles, please pair up with James. You’ve already been acquainted, yes?” He gestured toward a table in the back corner near the door. “Gather your things.”

Miles and Ganke exchanged longing looks. “Later, my dude,” Ganke sighed and handed Miles his notebook with a fist bump. Miles grudgingly made his way to the back of the room. He wasn’t especially social these days. He couldn’t even fully be himself with most important people in his life, let alone someone new.

Miles offered up a weak, “hey, man,” as he tossed his backpack to the floor and took a seat.

“Miles, right?” the boy held out a hand with a smile and Miles did a double take. He was _sexy_ —when did Miles ever take notice of someone before? Skin darker than Miles’, dreads tied up in a messy knot on top of his head, round black-rimmed glasses. He looked older than Miles—older and cooler and more confident. His voice was deep and rough. Miles nodded and shook his hand, cheeks flushing, retracting it quickly. “Jimmy.”

‘I _am_ gay,’ was Miles first thought— _did he say that out loud?_ It was a jarring realization, that he would find another guy attractive—one who wasn’t Peter. “Miles,” he choked out, “did I say that already?”

Jimmy laughed, beaming at him. “Nah, you’re cool.”

“The theme of this project is heroes,” Mr. Garcia announced. “For some of you, that might be your parents, an aunt, a mentor...maybe a beloved art teacher,” Mr. Garcia chuckled. “You’re each going to create a book telling their story. No words, just illustrations.” A few people groaned. “But here’s the catch—“ he raised his voice over the chatter. “Your partner will tell you the story, and you’ll create their book.”

He stole a glance a Jimmy, their eyes locking for a moment. His stomach fluttered. _It’s just teenage hormones_ , he thought as the last bell rang out. Everyone scrambled to grab their things, but Miles stayed seated. To his dismay, Jimmy did too.

“You wanna come to my dorm tomorrow night and bang this out?” Jimmy looked at him with dark piercing eyes.

“Huh?” all he heard was _dorm_ and _bang._

“The project—I like to stay on top of things. I got some ideas.”

“Oh, yeah,” Miles could feel his face flushing as he nodded.

“Here, give me your phone. I’ll put in my number.” Miles handed it over, watching nervously as he flicked through and tapped in his info. “I gotchu.”

“Cool, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Or today.” Just then, Miles could hear a text coming through on his phone, still in Jimmy’s hand. “It’s from Peter with a heart next to his name.”

Miles rubbed his neck, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, that’s my uh—“

“It’s cool,” Jimmy smirked, handing Miles his phone back. Miles snatched it back, stuffing it in his pocket. “Bye, Miles.”

“Yeah, cool,” Miles tried to sound nonchalant. “I’ll see you...in your room.”

* * *

That evening, Miles lay on Ganke’s bed, watching him play a video game on the floor below.

“Too bad you don’t like girls,” Ganke mused, tapping away on the controller. “Mila couldn’t stop talking about you in art today. She was looking at you like this,” he made loud kissing noises. “Oh Miles!” he squealed.

Miles threw a pillow at his friend. “What do you know about Jimmy? In art class...”

“James Jones?” Ganke paused the game to look at Miles. “He’s like, the smartest guy in school—and he’s a senior.”

“Then why’s he in our class?” Miles frowned.

“I dunno,” Ganke shrugged. “Maybe he never took art before.” Ganke unpaused his game and kept fighting as Miles watched his character get destroyed for the 8th time. “I heard he has like 5 scholarships. Too bad he’s gay—“

Miles whipped his head around to look at Ganke. “What do you mean?”

Ganke sighed, pausing his game again. “You living under a rock, dude?” he shook his head. “Because all the girls in school have a crush on Jimmy Jones, duh. You need to get out more.”

“ _Yeah, I can see why,_ ” Miles mumbled under his breath. “I’m going to his dorm tomorrow night.” Ganke’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “It’s for the art project, man!”

“Does Peter know?”

“Why would Peter have to know? It’s just school stuff.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Ganke shook his head at Miles. “Why don’t you just invite him here? I can ask Mila and we can all work on it together.”

“Nah, man. We ain’t bringing her back here,” he protested. “Anyway, it’s not like we’re gonna be alone. Who’s his roommate?”

“Oh sweet, innocent Miles,” Ganke sighed. “Jimmy doesn’t _have_ a roommate. His roommate was Jay Patel—until the school found out they were dating. Now he’s not allowed to have a roommate anymore.”

“So he has a boyfriend. Just because two guys who happen to be gay—“

“ _Had_...they broke up last year. Keep up, Miles.” He turned to face Miles—his expression one of serious concern. “It’s like this: what if Peter knew this really hot guy. And that guy—“

“I’m pretty sure Peter isn’t into guys—besides me.”

“Okay, so a really hot _woman_ —I dunno, let’s just say...Wonder Woman—invited him over to her place for the evening to sign some Spider-Man paperwork for the new book release. And he didn’t tell you about it.”

Miles considered his question, rubbing his chin. “You think Jimmy is really hot?”

“That’s not the point, Miles. Are you kidding me—of course Jimmy is hot! Shit, If I were gay—“

“—Okay! I get it, man. I’ll tell Peter, it’s whatever,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. He’s not even that cute. I don’t care.”

That night, Miles lay awake in his bed. He thought about texting Peter. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide—it’s just that it didn’t matter. Why would Peter need to know he was doing a school project with a classmate? Was it really as bad as Ganke said?

He flipped through his phone contacts until he came across it: Jimmy J 🖤

* * *

On Tuesday evening, Miles was getting ready for his project with Jimmy. He must have spent an hour in the shower—standing under the scalding hot water, rethinking his life choices until the water ran cold.

He shaved and dressed, and when he emerged from the bathroom Ganke shook his head disapprovingly. “Hot date?”

“Fuck off,” Miles rolled his eyes, wishing Ganke would stop prying into his personal life.

As Miles was gathering his things, his phone rang from his bag. He took it out and looked down at Peter’s face on the screen, hesitating before taking the call. “Hey P.”

“Hey beautiful, did you finish your homework?”

“Uh, not exactly. I have a group project we’re doing tonight. What’s up?”

“We need to talk. I’ve got some details from May that you’re gonna want to hear, and—“

“Is this about the thing with my parents?”

“Yeah, can I stop by when you’re done?”

“Tonight? I don’t know...”

“Is it because Ganke’s there? How about I pick you up to stay at my place? I can bring you to school in the morning.

“Uh...yeah, okay. Can you come at 9?”

“Kinda late, no?”

“Yeah, it’s just this project—“

“Yeah alright, I’ll be there at 9.”

Miles felt Ganke’s critical stare as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, slamming the door behind him without a word.

Standing outside the room number Jimmy texted him, Miles adjusted his shirt nervously. _I’m not nervous_ , he reminded himself as Jimmy opened the door. He looked _so_ _hot_ , which Miles mentally slapped himself for even thinking. In stark contrast to the school uniform Miles had seen him in yesterday, Jimmy looked casual in a form-fitting t-shirt and athletic joggers—his dreadlocks still in a messy knot, but no glasses. Miles’ eyes wandered over his muscled frame, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Hey, man.”

Inside, they spread their art supplies over the bed—it wasn’t a bunk bed like Miles and Ganke’s. Jimmy was laying on his side, chin propped up in his hand, while Miles preferred to sit on the edge of the bed at a safe distance. He could feel the other boy’s eyes on him with his spider senses. It was unsettling.

“So uh, maybe we should start planning the stories first?” Miles was determined to keep things on track.

“Yeah, that’s cool. Who’s your hero, Miles?”

“Huh?”

“For the project. Mine is my little brother.”

“Yeah? Okay let’s start there. Tell me about him.”

“His name was Darnell. He was 13 when he got shot on the street outside our house.”

Miles didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, man,” was all he could manage.

“He was so smart,” Jimmy continued. “Like he could’ve done _anything_ , I swear. This kid could’ve been a doctor or a professor or some shit.”

“I heard you’re really smart, too,” as soon as he’d said the words, he wished he hadn’t. There was a heavy silence that followed before either of them spoke again.

“Who’s your hero, Miles?”

Miles sighed, “I don’t know. Spider-Man?”

Jimmy laughed out loud, “stop playin’ boy.”

“Man, I’m serious. I don’t know, I guess I always felt like we were the same.”

“What do you mean, the same? You be sticking to walls and shit?” he laughed out loud, and it made Miles’ skin crawl.

“Nah, I don’t know.” He felt... _inadequate_ in that moment, knowing he would never be able to speak his truth. “I guess I just always wanted to help people.”

“Hey, that’s cool,” Jimmy sobered up. “I respect that, y’know?”

They worked in silence for some time, putting together a storyboard for Jimmy’s brother. Miles eventually lay down on his side opposite Jimmy so they were facing each other across the pile of art supplies. Miles did some rough sketches, and Jimmy wrote out some ideas for the scenes. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but it was charged with nervous energy. Jimmy broke the silence first.

“I fuck with Spider-Man too, actually,” he smirked, looking up at Miles. “The black one.”

Miles’ heart skipped a beat. It was surreal talking about Spider-Man to someone in real life. “Oh yeah?” was all he could choke out—his throat felt so dry.

“I bet he’s real chill. Kinda sexy too,” Jimmy laughed again, that loud and uninhibited laugh that was equal parts invigorating and annoying. He had never seen anyone so comfortable in his own skin—it was unnerving. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t say that. But he could save my ass, know what I’m sayin’?”

Miles didn’t know what made him do it. The desire to fit in, to feel like a normal teeenager—he looked up from his paper at Jimmy, “yeah, I’d let him web me.”

Jimmy looked up at him curiously, raising an eyebrow. Something in his expression changed—it was subtle, but he was looking at Miles differently just then. “You know,” he smirked, “you could pass for Spider-Man.”

Miles’ ears felt hot and his cheeks flushed deeply. “Stop playing, man.”

He looked over Miles’ body, sizing him up, considering him carefully. He squinted one eye and cocked his head to the side, looking at him from different angles. “Yeah yeah, for real though. I’m serious—“ he bit his lip, eyes scanning over Miles’ frame. “You’re like the same size and everything. I bet that suit would look real good on you.”

Miles’ heart was pounding out of his chest. _What was happening?_ He picked up his pencil and turned his focus back to the notebook beneath him—it took all his will, but with a shaky hand he continued the line work he’d started. _Just focus._

“Do you like guys, Miles?”

“Huh? Oh, um...yeah.” _Focus, Miles._

Miles looked up at Jimmy across the stack of papers and markers—when did he get so _c_ _lose_? He couldn’t have been more than a foot away from Miles’ face, leaning in to close the space between them. He smelled clean and masculine with a hint of cologne. He looked good enough to taste.

“Do you like guys like me?”

 _No_ , he was screaming out in his mind, even though he knew it wasn’t true. _I like guys like Peter_ , he told himself. Peter, who couldn’t be more different than Jimmy if he tried. But when Jimmy leaned in and kissed him, chests pressed together as the larger boy pinned him to the bed, his body was saying _fuck_ _yes_. It was so foreign and unfamiliar—his lips and his scent, hand cupping Miles’ jaw roughly, soft groan against his mouth. He tried to think of Peter’s face, but it wouldn’t come to him.

When Jimmy’s lips parted, Miles’ did too. When their tongues met, Miles thought terrible, unforgivable things—like how it would feel to be with someone he didn’t have to hide, to feel normal in some small way, someone he could introduce to his parents. He was kissing him back, just for a fleeting moment.

It took every ounce of will in his body to push him away, but he did. He moved away, eyes closed—too ashamed to look the other boy in the eyes. Sickened of what he’d become—and in some dark place, afraid of what he was walking away from.

“We can’t do this,” he whispered, feeling his eyes well up with tears—embarrassed at how easily they spilled. He sat up, carelessly stuffing his belongings into his bag, his head pounding painfully.

“You gonna leave, just like that huh?” Jimmy sounded hurt. “Aight, just go then.”

Ashamed and confused, Miles headed for the door in a daze. He turned and looked at Jimmy wistfully, as if saying goodbye to something that was never his—that never would be. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.”

He closed the door carefully behind him, making his way through the empty halls and out into the night.

* * *

It was only 8:15, so Miles decided he would show up unannounced at Peter’s place. He had to have him, to kiss away the taste of someone else’s lips, feel his fingertips brushing his cheek, breathe in his sweaty scent—everything so perfectly familiar about him that would make him whole again.

Peter buzzed him up to the 3rd story apartment, looking surprised but pleased at the unexpected change in plans. He was lounging shirtless in bed, web shooters on his wrists and a half-eaten box of pizza on the nightstand. Miles joined him on the bed, cuddling up against Peter’s side and burying his face in the man’s neck as they lay against the pillows.

“How did your project go?”

“Fine.”

“You didn’t tell me you were done early—I would’ve come and picked you up.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Peter leaned in close, nuzzling into Miles’ neck. “Did something happen?” Peter breathed in deeply, almost like he was smelling Miles. He sniffed his hair, his shirt—Miles’ heart was pounding so loud he could feel it in his ears. “You smell different,” he said slowly, “...like cologne.” Miles could practically see the gears turning in Peter’s head as the man furrowed his brow deeply. “Who were you with, Miles?”

Miles could have brushed it off, made an excuse—but he was a bad liar, and everyone knew it. Even his own dad knew he couldn’t lie his way out of anything if his life depended on it. And then, of course, there were the tears—incriminating him in the worst possible way as they flowed down his cheeks. He sniffled loudly, pathetically trying to hide that he was crying, and failing at it miserably.

“My art project partner,” he choked out.

“I swear to God, Miles—if he did something to you, if he hurt you—“

“He didn’t,” Miles said flatly, wiping away his tears and straightening himself up to lay against the pillows, putting a little space between them. “He kissed me.”

Peter’s silence was terrifying, just the heavy rising and falling of his chest with each heaving breath he took. Miles braced himself for the aftermath, powerless to stop it. He waited for what felt like an eternity for Peter’s reaction.

“Did you kiss him back?”

“What? No!” Did Peter know just how bad of a liar he was? “How could you say that, Peter? I didn’t—“

“What’s his name?”

“Jimmy.”

“I’ll remember that,” his voice sounded hateful, chilling. “ _Jimmy_ ,” he spat the name out like it was poison. Peter turned to Miles, eyes red, brow deeply furrowed, eyebrow cocked, hair sticking up wildly: he looked dangerous—Miles had never thought so until that moment. He looked like he wanted to go find Jimmy and snap his neck.

He turned to Miles and carefully lifted the boy’s chin to face him, leaning in so close Miles could feel Peter’s breath on his lips. Peter pressed their foreheads together, roughly cupping Miles’ face in both hands. “He can’t have you,” he brushed his lips against Miles’, kissing him fervently. “You’re mine.”

Miles’ lips parted in search of Peter’s tongue, letting it soothe him and take away the pain of his transgressions. Peter’s fingers—through his hair, down his jaw, across across his cheeks—swept away the memory of someone else’s touch.

Getting riled up with jealousy was obviously arousing to Peter. He aggressively took Miles’ hand, placing it over his sweatpants to feel his swollen cock through the material. Miles rubbed it through his pants, feeling himself get a little hard from the contact. “Peter,” he whispered into the man’s mouth. He wanted to hear the name on his lips until he forgot that he’d ever even met Jimmy, even if he had to say it a hundred times. “Peter.”

Peter was horny and aggressive, seething with jealousy. He made no attempts to hide it, but embraced it fully, taking it out on Miles as punishment. He broke their kiss and pushed Miles back to lay against the pillow, where Miles lay panting and aroused and a little bit scared. Peter climbed on top of the smaller boy to straddle his hips on the bed, pinning him to the mattress. “Peter,” this time it was louder, a moan catching in his throat and rolling off his lips.

Leaning in to taste him once more, Peter wrapped his hand around Miles’ throat like he was about to choke him but stopping short of actually squeezing the air from him. He slipped his tongue into Miles’ mouth, eliciting a groan from the boy as tongues melted together, kissing him deeply. Something about the demeaning gesture was deeply arousing, if not a bit frightening.

Peter pulled back from the kiss just enough to ask, “Who do you belong to, Miles?” It wasn’t just a question—it was a command, a threat. Miles felt the man’s fingertips dig in a bit harder; it made Miles cry out, thrust his hips so his dick was grinding against Peter’s through their pants, grip the sheets beneath him in his fingers.

“You,” he whimpered.

Peter smirked a crooked smile, chuckling to himself; Miles wasn’t entirely sure the man hadn’t lost his mind completely. “That was pathetic,” he shook his head. His hand still gripped around Miles’ throat, he touched their foreheads together. “Try again. Who do you belong to, Miles?”

“You, Peter!” he cried out. “I belong to you.” 

“Yeah, good boy.”

Peter climbed off, carelessly peeling the clothes from Miles’ body, stripping him down to nothing before sliding off his own sweatpants and underwear. Miles felt vulnerable and exposed, dirty. Unworthy. He wished he could take another hot shower to wash the scent of another man off his body.

Peter lay on top of the smaller boy, the weight of his body comforting and familiar. Miles’ body was tingling in anticipation, overwhelmed by Peter—the feeling of the man’s skin sticking to his, clean sweaty scent surrounding him, cock pressed into Miles’ belly making delicious heat between them. Peter’s mouth was on his again, tasting him, teeth biting at his lower lip, tongue pushing its way in. Peter came up for air once more, his eyes hungry and aggressive as he locked gazes with Miles.

“Now beg me for this dick,” he hissed.

Miles’ hands were wandering over Peter’s body, seeking out more of him—anything he could get his hands on—nails lightly scratching his back, hands gripping his ass, grabbing onto anything in his reach. “Please, Peter,” He knew it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Peter; he would have to try harder, fighting off his inhibitions against his own will. “I’ll do anything, please...I need it so bad.”

Peter sat up and reached over to the nightstand to collect a bottle of lube. He handed it to Miles, looking down at the boy through half-lidded eyes as he straddled his hips. “Get it ready.”

Miles complied, squeezing the cold liquid into his palm and working his fist down the length of Peter’s erection. Peter hissed at the cold contact, but sighed as Miles’ strokes warmed him up.

“Where do you want it? Tell me where it’s gonna go.”

Miles was both aroused and humiliated as he choked out the words “in my ass.”

“What am I gonna do?”

Miles’ eyes fluttered shut, unable to look Peter in the eyes as he whimpered beneath him. “You’re gonna fuck me.”

“That’s right,” Peter’s voice was a low growl as he repositioned himself between Miles’ legs. His eyes widened in surprise as Peter teased his entrance with the head of his cock, slipping it in and out through the tight ring of his opening. “Like _that_?”

“No!” Miles cried out. He needed more, cursing under his breath as Peter tortured him with the tip of his cock. “Please, Peter,” Miles whimpered pathetically, “please.”

“Please what?” Peter’s voice was harsh and aggressive. “You have to say it. What do you want, Miles?”

“More!” Miles could hardly bring himself to say the words, his ears burning with humiliation. “Deeper... _please_...harder,” was all he could manage, but it was enough.

Peter buried himself deep in Miles, grunting in the back of his throat. He was aggressive, almost violent in how forcefully he pumped away at Miles—eliciting not just moans, but shouts and cries from the smaller boy. Miles’ small frame was wracked with pain and pleasure as Peter pushed in again and again, Miles powerless to do anything but lay there and take it like a good boy. That’s what Peter wanted, and he would give Peter anything, do anything he asked of him if it meant he could lay there like this and be used however Peter pleased.

“What did he taste like?” Peter hissed in his ear.

“Peter, I—“

“Did he kiss better than me?”

“No!’ Miles cried out, lifting his head in search of Peter, silently begging for the man’s lips to claim him—and they did. He leaned down, kissing Miles fervently as he fucked him relentlessly. Miles kissed him back passionately, like he had something to prove. To show Peter his mouth belonged to nobody but him.

Peter pulled back from the kiss. “What did he feel like?”

“I don’t know!”

“You _do_ ,” Peter grunted out between gasps of air. “You smell like him. He touched you, didn’t he?”

“No,” Miles whimpered. Peter was driving into him, sweat dripping onto Miles’ chest, hips slapping against his ass.

“You’re lying,” he cried out in pleasure, seemingly against his will. “I bet you wanted it.”

Miles was humiliated, insanely turned on, confused. _Was Peter getting off on his own jealousy?_

“No! I only want you, Peter.”

Peter had worked himself to exhaustion—his thrusts into Miles’ body slowing down, but with as much power behind them. Slow, hard thrusts that slapped against Miles each time Peter pushed into him.

“You wanted him to fuck you.”

Miles shook his head.

“Who does this ass belong to?”

“You, Peter!” Miles squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Only you.”

Peter grabbed Miles’ face in his hand roughly. “Look at me while I’m fucking you.”

Miles looked at his partner, the man’s eyes glazed over in pleasure with something darker beneath the surface—jealousy and rage.

“Tell me how good my cock feels,” he gasped. “Promise me it’s the only one you’ll ever need.”

Peter’s voice caught on the word _need._ Something unfamiliar flashed across the man’s features just then—insecurity. He wasn’t demanding, he was pleading. It was a subtle distinction, but it was there. He was asking for Miles’ reassurance, needed his word.

That realization sent Miles barreling toward the edge of release. Peter was too far gone to notice, so Miles grabbed his own dick in his hand—stroking himself to match Peter’s steady thrusts. He was so close.

“Feels so good. Don’t stop...it’s making me come,” Miles choked out. “I promise, Peter. I can’t live without it.”

“I’m close, baby. Beg me for my cum. Tell me you need it.”

“God I need it,” Miles was releasing into his own hand, cum splashing on both of their bellies. “Come with me, please Peter. I need you to give it to me.”

Peter cried out, burying himself deep in Miles one last time, moaning the boy’s name. The feeling of Peter filling him up at the same time he emptied his own balls was hypnotic. Tears stained his cheeks as he rocked his hips to meet Peter’s thrusts and his own hand.

Peter collapsed on him, sweat-drenched hair in Miles’ face and all his weight pressing Miles into the bed, and nothing anyone else had to offer could ever be as good as this. He wished he could tell Peter exactly that if he wasn’t so afraid to, but he damn sure tried.

“Peter, there’s nobody else for me,” he panted against the man’s sweaty neck. “You’re enough...this is enough...” He hoped maybe Peter would understand.

“Sometimes I’m scared, Miles,” he whispered against the boy’s cheek. “One day you’re gonna wake and and realize you can do _so_ much better than me.”

“And I’ll still choose you.”

* * *

“Hey dad?”

“What’s up, son? You finish your homework?”

“Yeah, look. I was wondering if I can drop by tomorrow after school?”

“Ah, I mean you live here, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just...there’s someone I need you to meet.”


	23. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot + smut: If I’m piling on the sex scenes too high, it’s because ~~I’m horny~~ it motivates me to write. I threw in some plot too, so hopefully there’s something for everyone.

“Ready?” Aunt May stood with her hands on Miles shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“No,” Miles shook his head with a weak smile.

“Do you remember the plan?”

“Yeah, of course I do. You do all the talking.”

Just then, the front door opened, both of Miles’ parents standing in the doorway. They welcomed Miles home before turning their gaze to the stranger beside him.

“May,” she offered up, holding out a hand.

“Rio,” Miles’ mom shook it, stealing a glance at her husband.

“Officer Davis,” he nodded. His mom turned and shot her husband a frown. “Sorry, uh...Jefferson.” He looked down at Aunt May, “you must be Miles’ teacher?” he guessed.

“Something like that.” The pleasantries were getting them nowhere. “May I?” she gestured toward the door.

They sat around the kitchen table—May and Miles opposite his parents— and Rio served them coffee, except for Miles. “Rio, he’s not a boy anymore—give the man some coffee,” his dad cut in. Miles hated coffee.

“Let’s get to it, shall we?” Aunt May never wasted any time in cutting to the chase.

“I just want to apologize on behalf of our family if my son has done something to get himself into trouble again,” Miles’ dad explained.

“I can assure you it’s nothing like that,” she offered a weak smile. “Miles is a good kid—you couldn’t ask for a better one.” When she looked at Miles, he knew she meant it. “I’ve known Miles for quite some time now, actually.”

Jeff’s expression softened, “how exactly do you—“

“Let me start from the beginning,” May interrupted. She put her purse on the table, rummaging through the large bag before extracting a small photo album. She flipped through before placing it on the table in front of her. “This is Peter.”

Two years later, and Miles could still see the pain in her eyes. Miles could feel just a sliver of it in the pit of his own stomach.

“Your son?” Jeff asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“My nephew,” her voice hitched on the word. “ _Anyway_ , she sighed, “you might know him better like this.” She flipped the photo over, and on the back page was a recognizable shot of Spider-Man. Miles’ parents looked at one another in confusion.

“Spider-Man?” Jeff gasped. “But he—“

“—died, yes,” she sighed.

“I’m so sorry,” Rio’s head hung in pity for the woman, “I can’t imagine.”

“He was a good kid,” Jeff shook his head. “What a shame.”

“I understand you knew him?” May asked him.

“We crossed paths, sure. Had a few run ins with him, going after the same guys. Sometimes he’d be getting in the way,” he chuckled, “but always trying to help out. One of the good ones.”

“When we heard the news,” Rio added, “we were shocked. I think the whole world stopped that day.”

“He was a regular kid,” May smiled fondly, “not much different than your Miles here.”

Jeff looked at Miles curiously, as if he’d forgotten his son had been sitting there all along.

“But something changed him. If you can believe it—it was a spider bite. Some kind of _radioactive spider_. It was like something out of a comic book. He started getting powers: superhuman strength, rapid healing, sticking to _everything_. He hid it from me for a long time.”

“You must have been so worried when you found out” Miles’ mom sympathized.

“I was...at first. Probably not as much as I should’ve been. But he worked hard, kept his head up—he did a lot of good in this city. I am so incredibly proud of the man he became.”

May looked to Miles. His chest was pounding, stomach twisting in knots. This was the part where everything would change. He gave her a weak nod, trying to keep down his lunch.

May thumbed through the album once more, stopping on another photo.

“The _other_ Spider-Man,” Jeff said curiously. “You know him?”

“I do,” she sighed, not chancing a look in Miles’ direction. She was good at this, Miles thought. Level-headed and assured in ways he’d never seen before. “Before my nephew died, he discovered something—something that has the power to turn the world as we know it upside-down. Ultimately, it’s also what got him killed.

“He found, shall we say, a portal—to other dimensions. He died trying to stop it from being used for evil. When he died, this Collider of worlds opened up and other Spider-Men came through—all different kinds, from different dimensions almost like ours.”

“So this _new_ Spider-Man is from another dimension?” Jeff was trying to make the pieces fit together.

“No...you see, that’s where it gets interesting. Peter never knew there were others like him. That is, until the day he died. He met a boy just like him—bitten by a radioactive spider. Happened that very week, in fact. A new Spider-Man, from our world.

“When Peter died, the new Spider-Man was able to finish his work and destroy it...all the other Spider people were able to return home. Well, except for one other.”

“With all due respect, what does any of this have to do with—“ Jeff’s face fell, dawning with realization, “—Miles.” He looked at his son incredulously.

“Dad...”

“Miles?” his dad choked out, voice hitching. “Is it true?” His dad was looking at him like he was a stranger in his own home.

“Is what true?” Rio knew something was wrong, but wasn’t piecing things together quite as quickly as her husband. She didn’t seem to understand the gravity of that moment, how the mood in the air shifted around them.

Miles looked to Aunt May for help—she’d know what to say, what to do.

“Now before you say anything—“ May could sense the rising tension in the room

“Miles,” his dad interrupted, his voice raising with each word, “how do you know this woman?”

Aunt May nodded at him reassuringly, as if to say _G_ _o on. You can do it. Take the leap of faith. Jump._

“Um...” he was so scared, he wanted to make a run for it. His body felt like it was charging with energy—he could feel it in his hands, like they were buzzing. That was when he realized his electric powers were charging up.

This was new—he hadn’t yet learned to tap into his electrical energy. It was something that only happened beyond his control in a real fight; they could never replicate it during training. Peter always said it was too dangerous, too unpredictable to wield. Miles came to the sudden realization that it was activated by the fight-or-flight response in his body, and right now his body was telling him to stay and fight.

“Easy, Miles,” May warned, having taken notice of his predicament beside her.

He wished Peter was here, more than anything. Just his presence was enough to soothe his fears, calm his soul. Miles slipped his phone from his pocket under the table, smiling weakly when he saw a text message from Peter.

_I’m so proud of you, Miles. You’re doing the right thing._

He looked up at his parents with determination in his eyes.

“After I got bitten by the spider,” he began with a shaky voice, “Aunt May helped me.”

“No,” Jeff stood abruptly from the table. “Miles, no...” When Miles met his gaze, there were tears in his dad’s eyes. He backed away from the table, as if he were backing away from something he was afraid of.

Miles’ mom looked at May, a deep sadness in her eyes that was like a punch to Miles’ gut. “I think you should go.”

* * *

As March turned into April, the cold snowy days turned to rain. Miles trudged through the puddle-soaked sidewalks of Brooklyn and made his way to Peter’s place. He wrapped his jacket around himself a little bit tighter as the first rain of the season soaked right through. When he got to Peter’s, he was shivering and drenched.

Peter had given him a key and the security code to his apartment, so Miles made his way up to the 3rd floor—water sloshing in his boots—and let himself in. Peter was passed out on the couch in nothing but sweatpants (with his hand down the front), snoring loudly. Miles smirked at the sight of him as he stripped out of his wet clothes and made his way to the laundry to toss them in the dryer.

Ever since his apartment makeover, Peter kept the place pretty clean, but it was looking a little rough these days. Peter blamed it on the mounting stress they were both facing. Miles made up his mind to surprise his partner and do some cleaning. He walked naked into Peter’s room, rummaging around in his dresser. He found some underwear that kind of fit, and a t-shirt at least a size too big. Peter clearly hadn’t done laundry in weeks, if the mountain of dirty clothes overflowing from the basket was any indication. Not only that, but there were no clean pants or shorts to be found, and Miles wouldn’t have been surprised if Peter was rewearing the same dirty pair out of the basket.

Miles got to work—laundry, tidying, making the bed. He had just started on the dishes when his spider senses alerted him. Peter came up from behind, pressing up against him and kissing his neck. It tickled and made him weak in the knees. He dried his hands on a dish towel and turned around, their bodies pressed flush together.

“Look at you,” Peter groaned, leaning in to kiss him as his hands wandered over Miles’ body—fingertips sneaking under the loose fitting t-shirt and caressing his belly. “Wanna be my housewife?”

“I don’t see a ring on my finger, so don’t get used to this,” Miles teased.

“I’m working on it.”

Miles cheeks felt hot. “Y-yeah?”

“Mmm. Is that my underwear?” Peter looked him over, biting his lip.

“And your t-shirt.”

“Shit, that’s hot Miles.” Peter’s voice was deep and hoarse with arousal. “I wanna bend you over right here.” He punctuated his words by rolling his hips against Miles.

The washing machine buzzed from the other side of the apartment. “Laundry’s done.” Miles smirked.

“I’ll get it,” Peter insisted. “You’ve done too much. I want you to go wait for me on the bed, and when I get back, I want you to be wearing nothing but my t-shirt.”

Miles didn’t have to be told twice.

He lay on Peter’s bed and slipped the underwear down his ankles and to the floor. He was half-hard laying back against the pillow with an arm propping up his head. The smell of Peter’s pillow made him dizzy with arousal as he felt himself getting harder, his erection peeking out from under the hem of Peter’s t-shirt. The thought of Peter walking in and seeing him like that excited him so much that his fingers trailed over his belly, pulling the t-shirt up just enough to expose his cock and lightly caress the head with his fingertips.

Miles closed his eyes and thought about Peter. Last weekend, right after everything changed and Miles blew his Spider-Man cover, he showed up to Peter’s place with tear-streaked cheeks and dark circles under his eyes from crying the whole 16 block walk. Peter carried him in his arms to bed and soothed him, kissed him all over his face and whispered reassuring words while fucking him so gently, taking away his doubts and fears. It was a different, softer side of Peter—one that the man knew he needed in that moment as he slowly and carefully buried himself in Miles as if to pacify him, make him feel loved and whole again.  
  
Miles’ fist was lazily working at his cock, eyes closed in concentration and lips parted, when Peter slipped into the room—announced only by the sound of the door closing softly behind him. Miles opened an eye to steal a glance at him, but didn’t stop jerking himself. It only heightened his pleasure knowing that Peter was watching him get off.

“Save some for me,” Peter teased as he lay beside his partner on the bed, still in his sweats with his bare chest on display.

“I was just getting it ready for you,” Miles smirked, looking at Peter now and feeling suddenly vulnerable under his gaze.

“I’m going to do all the work,” he whispered seductively into Miles’ ear. “You’ve been such a good boy. I just want you to lay there and let me take care of you.”

Miles nodded, releasing himself from his grip and gasping at the loss of contact. His hips raised involuntarily in search of more.

Peter was happy to pick up the slack. Moving lower on the bed, he nudged Miles’ legs apart to lay between them—his face just a few inches from Miles’ aching cock—but instead of taking it in his mouth to suck on, he nuzzled into it. Peter buried his face into Miles, breathing in deeply the scent of his balls, damp with sweat—smelling his salty flesh dripping with precum at the tip and still slick with spit from Miles’ palm. Something about the primal act of being _smelled_ was deeply arousing, earning Peter a deep sigh.

Peter kissed his way up from Miles’ balls, tight with arousal—lips brushing their way along his length and leaving wet kisses on silky skin. He took his time, leaving no inch of Miles’ cock neglected. The torture seemed to go on and on, and each time Miles thought Peter had finally made his way to the tip where he might get some relief, Peter worked his way back down just as slowly. When he finally made his way up to the sensitive underside of the head and kissed it teasingly, flicking the tip of his tongue along the sensitive ridge there, he backed off.

Miles hissed an objection, which turned to a surprised moan as the man’s lips closed around the tip of his cock instead. Peter sucked just the head, tongue swirling over his slit, lapping up the precum that had collected there. He went slowly, taking his time once more as he sucked at the fleshy head until Miles was trying to wiggle free. The feeling was so intense, he could hardly take any more when Peter pulled away again, leaving Miles breathless and panting. “Ah! _Peter_...mmm.”

Peter was edging him—teasing him skillfully as he built up the pleasure and then took it away.

Peter returned his attention to Miles’ balls—covering them with sloppy wet kisses and tongue, taking them in his mouth one at a time and sucking on them softly, and then both at once. He moaned around a mouthful, making Miles squirm in search of relief. When he was done, he licked his way up Miles’ dick. Just tongue against skin, nothing more. Licking his flesh teasingly with the tip of his tongue from base to tip, and then with his whole tongue, creating delicious friction against his skin.

Miles had never felt like this before. Peter was an attentive lover, and Miles was more than acquainted with the feeling of the man’s mouth around him, but this was something different. He was so slow and methodical, focused on creating intense sensations on Miles that the boy had never felt before. Peter wasn’t just trying to get him off—he was worshipping him, making love to his dick. It was intimate and erotic, the feelings so intense his legs were shaking uncontrollably. As they did, Peter was kissing his way down the inside of Miles’ thighs, nibbling on the soft skin and eliciting moans from the smaller boy.

He pushed Miles’ legs up to bend at the knees, opening him up and exposing him completely. That was when Peter ran his tongue along Miles’ hole. “Ohhh,” Miles purred as Peter’s tongue lapped at his entrance, kissing and sucking at the exposed flesh, pushing the tip of his tongue against the opening.

The gesture was too intimate, too intense. He felt embarrassed and self-conscious, worrying about how he tasted, how he looked. His face felt hot, flushed with both arousal and shame. Giving himself to Peter in such a vulnerable way was one of the most intense moments they’d ever shared together—connecting them on a deeper level in a way he didn’t know was possible. He had no choice but to let go and give in to the feeling, trusting that Peter wanted it and liked what he was experiencing too.

It felt like Peter was reading his mind when he breathed words of assurance against Miles’ exposed, wet skin. “God, you taste delicious. You’re so perfect like this.”

Peter licked at him fervently, groaning in pleasure as his tongue dipped into Miles’ opening. Miles’ neglected cock was twitching and throbbing as clear strands of precum dribbled out. Peter seemed to take notice and take mercy on him, abandoning the torture in favor of swallowing him whole.

He took Miles’ erection into his mouth, lips sliding down the length of it as he choked it down to the back of his throat. Miles was moaning and sighing at the feeling of Peter’s mouth around him, sucking on him more urgently than his previous ministrations. He was already so worked up, he was going to bust down Peter’s throat with just a little more coaxing.

“Peter, I’m gonna—“

Before he could get the words out, Peter was backing off again, leaving him panting and crying out for more. His abandoned dick was twitching and spasming in a silent plea for release. Peter looked up at the boy from between his legs, soothing him with reassuring words as Miles whimpered helplessly.

“You’re doing so good, Miles. Just relax now, baby. Let me take care of you,” he lulled softly in maddening contrast to the desperation, the _urgency_ Miles felt. “I’m gonna get you there—you have to trust me.” 

In agonizing rhythm of sucking and stopping that felt like hours, Peter edged him to climax. With his cock buried down Peter’s throat, Miles could feel it building—his whole body shaking, belly tightening, toes curling. Peter could feel it too, and he made good on his promise of relief. Miles came with powerful waves of pleasure and uninhibited shouts wracking his body. Peter sucked him carefully through it—bobbing his head on Miles’ cock, not stopping until he lovingly milked every drop from the boy, until Miles was exhausted and slack.

When Peter joined him again on the pillow to lay beside him—sweaty limbs intertwined—he leaned over to claim Miles’ lips with his own and cup the boy’s face in his hand, stroking a cheek with his thumb. Miles groaned as Peter kissed him deeply, tasting himself as they shared his cum. He sighed with content at the intimate gesture, knowing in that moment he belonged to Peter.

“Can I kiss you like this at tomorrow’s book signing?” Peter whispered against Miles’ lips.

Miles nodded. “Maybe don’t feed me my cum on stage,” he teased.

Peter grinned, “I can’t make any promises.”


	24. Chapter 22

Even after making a name for himself over the last two years, Miles was still in disbelief whenever someone acknowledged him on the street as Spider-Man. Sure he had his recognizable black and red suit, with his masked face staring back from every local newspaper and magazine cover, but it still gave him a rush when someone in passing would give him a fist bump or take his picture. It shouldn’t come as a surprise; he’d sealed his own comic book deal, and even though his line of action figures didn’t do so hot, the city had embraced him as their own.

“‘Sup Spider-Man?” Miles’ head whipped around to see a teenage boy holding out his phone to snap a picture. He couldn’t have been any older than Miles. The thought of someone who could easily have been his own classmate clamoring to get a picture with him was still unreal. Somewhere in the back of his mind, when he heard _‘_ _Spider-Man’,_ he thought they must be talking about Peter—except Miles was alone, and Peter was waiting for him backstage.

These days, Miles was _the_ Spider-Man in his world. Peter had gained a small following ever since May set him up with those book deals, but the fan community hadn’t quite embraced him yet; they didn’t know what to make of him. Both Miles and May had suggested countless times that he choose a different suit to help people warm up to him, but Peter was headstrong if not a bit prideful. From what they’d heard, people called Peter ‘Spider-Man 2’ or ‘New Spider-Man’, whereas Miles had earned the Spider-Man title after being the first to make his way onto the scene after the other’s death.

Their new graphic novel touched on the issue—the torch had been passed to a new generation of Spider-Men, and the suit would continue to be passed down to those worthy of it in generations to come. It even hinted at other Spider-Men in alternate dimensions, opening the door to the possibility of even _more_ Spider-Men.

Miles had been pondering whether he should fashion himself a new moniker (of course it would be Miles—Peter would _never_ agree to it), as he made his way through the crowd. He gave a nervous wave to a little kid wearing a black Spider-Man suit to match his own—one of few in a sea of red and blue. The city never really got over the death of their first Spider-Man. It hung over New York like a cloud. The pressure for Miles to live up to his name felt suffocating at times, and because things had been quiet for so long, it felt like he’d never get the chance to prove himself.

But here he was, ready for his first onstage promo event at Brooklyn College for their new book, in a sea of strangers who would never know the face under the mask. It was a graphic novel featuring both Spider-Men, and although Peter was used to the fame and recognition, for Miles it was a surreal experience.

Backstage, Miles ran into Peter, who was stretching and cracking his back, as if he were preparing his body for some unforeseen trial. He stopped stretching to take a bite of the candy bar in his hand. Miles peeked through the curtains at the crowd. They had sold nearly five-hundred tickets to the event, and his stomach was twisting in knots at the thought of standing on the stage in front of them all.

“Are you nervous?” a rough voice said from behind.

“Um, I think so,” Miles’ hands were sweating like crazy. “Does it ever get easier?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know if it got easier so much as I got older and just stopped caring.” He came up behind Miles, massaging his shoulders. It was the most intimate gesture he could manage, given their surroundings.

“I wish I didn’t care.”

Their talk was cut short as a stage assistant took Miles by the arm and guided him through the curtains and onstage, and blinding stage lights were shining on him bright and hot. The crowd cheered and whistled as he squinted to get a better look—a sea of strangers who loved him, who thought of him as a hero. To his own parents, he was no better then a teenage delinquent, the way his dad had gone on last night about responsibility and respect. (“Respect is earned, not given! You can’t just put on a mask and expect to understand what that means.”)

It was one of many talks they’d had over the last week. His dad made it clear that not only did he NOT approve of Miles moonlighting as Spider-Man, but that this was some kind of gateway drug to living a reclusive life of failure. That he’d turn out to be some washed up, cynical lunatic roaming the streets at night in search of a fix. (“You wanna know what a real hero looks like? Come on down to the station and I’ll introduce you to a few. Those are the real heroes, Miles. The ones who don’t need a mask to hide their egos.”)

His mom was worse, in a way—scared and helpless, sobbing every time the subject of Spider-Man was broached. He was starting to think he’d made a grave mistake, that they’d never come around.

The event speaker introduced him, and soon the lights were dimmed as montage of Spider-Man footage was projected on the screen behind him. Everything was going according to plan. When the reel was over, Peter would drop in from above, and as the lights cut back on, they would kiss. His heart was pounding so loud he could hear it.

Everything seemed like it was moving in slow motion. The crowd was clapping and cheering—he could see their faces in the glow of the screen, and it unsettled him how unfamiliar they all were. It all felt so hollow and vain, cheering for a stranger. They weren’t clapping for him—they were clapping for Spider-Man. It could be anyone under the suit, it didn’t matter who. He had never felt so alone as in that moment.

The lights flickered on. The cheering lulled as the crowd waited expectantly for more.

_THWIP_

Peter swung to the rafters of the auditorium, and in Miles’ peripheral view he could see the man hanging upside-down, lowering himself toward the stage.

The applause and whistles and uproar of the crowd filled the auditorium once more, pounding in his ears and echoing in his head.

Peter’s face was level with his own. This was their moment. Miles felt nauseous.

Miles wished he could see the man’s face behind the mask for reassurance, to know that it was going to be okay. Peter rolled his cowl up just enough to uncover the lower half of his face. Miles fixated on his stubbled jaw, chapped lips—in any other moment he’d give himself eagerly. The man turned his attention, hooking his fingers under the boy’s cowl to carefully expose Miles’ mouth, and somehow the thrum of the audience was even louder still.

Miles looked into the crowd once more, as if to seek approval, but as his eyes scanned the front row, he did a double-take. His brain seemed to be working in slow motion as he spotted two familiar faces in a sea of strangers. _His parents_. His mom was smiling excitedly, while his dad looked stoic and reserved.

No, this wasn’t part of the plan. He tried to tell Peter as much.

“My parents!” he shouted and pointed toward the crowd. It was useless—Peter gave him a thumbs-up (or a thumbs-down, given his current position) and mouthed something that Miles couldn’t hear.

Peter reached a hand out, grabbing a fistful of Miles’ suit by the chest to pull himself closer. They were so close Miles could smell the chocolate on his breath, could see Peter’s chin tilting toward him. The cheering and whistling drowned out all hope of catching Peter’s attention.

Miles shook his head, but Peter wasn’t catching on.

In a moment of panic, he pushed Peter away—grabbed his shoulders and shoved him, putting as much space between them as he could manage. The hanging man swung back and forth on his web like a pendulum as laughter erupted from the crowd. They thought it was all an act, like this was some sort of comedy sketch they had planned for some cheap laughs. Miles was going to be sick.

* * *

After the event, Peter had already left when Miles went backstage, leaving nothing but a pile of candy wrappers. Waiting instead were his parents, as his mom pulled him in for a hug. He knew he’d pay later for what he’d done to Peter, but in that moment he felt free as his dad leaned in for a hug, too.

He rode home with his parents.

“I thought May said there were no other Spider-Men,” his dad grilled him. Yeah, they hadn’t gotten that far into their plan yet. Now would _not_ be the time to remind him that technically, she said one other Spider-Man had remained behind. His dad would have too many questions—might even want to meet him. He still didn’t know how May was planning on pulling that one off when the time came to tell them about Peter. He’d have to play it off for now.

“That was just an actor—it was part of the show. We were acting.”

“Oh, so you’re an actor now, huh?” he could see his dad’s eyes rolling in the rear view mirror. “A superhero, an actor, an author too? How did you get that book deal, anyway?”

“Oh uh, May set all of that up for me.”

“Anything _other_ secret identities we should know about? Moonlighting as a villain? A government spy?” his dad laughed dryly, sounding annoyed.

“Jeff,” his mom shot her husband a look.

If only they knew.

* * *

When they got home, Miles had six unread texts from Peter.

“Y did u agree 2 the plan if u weren’t serious? Thought u wanted this 2”

“U don’t want people to know about us, Miles? Is that what this is?”

“U should’ve told me b4 instead of humiliating me”

“I love u Miles. I’m trying 2 do all the right things so we can be 2gether and ur pushing me away...literally!!!”

“Do u love me?”

“Please Miles”

Peter’s abbreviated text speak always seemed absurd in times like these when a phone call or face-to-face interaction would be much more appropriate. Miles sighed, thumbed a message into his phone, thought better of it, deleted it, and dialed the man’s number instead.

Peter picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?” his voice was shaky and unsure.

“Are you crying?” Miles was taken aback.

“What? No, of course I’m—no, I’m not crying.” He was definitely crying.

“Peter, I’m sorry. Please, let me explain.”

“What is there to explain? I already know what happened and I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Will you stop? You don’t get it, man! Do you ever listen?”

“I don’t have to listen! I can see everything I need to know with my own two eyes. I can see that you’re embarrassed by me, that you’re having second thoughts about us.”

“That’s not true—“

“I’m not finished! Look, I know you’re young and being gay isn’t exactly the life you were hoping for. Maybe you’re starting to have doubts about whether this is what you want—just like I said when I was trying to be the responsible adult and not get into a relationship with a kid—“

“A teenager,” Miles interrupted.

“Okay, a teenager. Anyway, this is _exactly_ the kind of thing I was worried about.” 

“I’m _not_ embarrassed, Peter! I want this...I want you. I swear it’s not what you think.”

“Prove it.”

“I will, I just—I need more time.”

“Yeah, well...I guess I’ll just be waiting until you come around,” Peter’s voice was bitter with resentment.

“I don’t want you to lose your deals.” It was a bad lie, but somehow felt better than the truth. The truth would just make things worse, because Peter was still annoyed that Miles ever told his parents about Spider-Man in the first place. Peter would get the satisfaction of knowing he was right. He’d get to say ‘I told you so,’ just like he predicted all along.

“My deals? I don’t _care_ about my deals, Miles! Are you serious?” he was raising his voice now, and Miles’ hushed tone felt inadequate, knowing his parents could be right outside his door.

“You should care! You wanna go back to living at Aunt May’s place? Is that what you want? To never be able to afford our own place together?”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“Is that what this is about? You don’t think I can provide for you.”

“No, Peter. Look, I’m sorry. I keep messing this up. The truth is,” Miles sighed, feeling exhausted with the circles they were going in, “my parents showed up.”

“You can’t even get your story straight, and you expect me to believe that?”

“I’m serious, Peter. I didn’t know they were coming, but I saw them right in front of the stage. My dad looked tense but my mom...she looked so happy for me. She looked really proud, and I—“ his voice hitched on the word _proud_. “I tried to tell you, but it was too loud.”

Peter sighed. “This is why I’ve been saying all along—“

“If you’re gonna say ‘I told you so’, then save it. I don’t wanna hear it right now, Peter. I’m sick of this.”

“Oh, so now you’re sick of me?”

“I don’t know—“

“Miles?” there was a soft knock on the door.

“It’s my dad, gotta go.” He hung up on Peter, silencing his phone and stuffing it in his pocket. “Come in.”

His dad stepped in cautiously and shut the door behind him, looking around the room and everywhere but Miles. He gestured toward the bed. “Mind if I have a seat?

Miles nodded, sitting across from him in his desk chair.

“That was something today,” his dad’s expression looked uncomfortable, but his voice was reassuring. “I didn’t know you had so many fans.”

“I just wanted to say thanks for coming,” Miles looked at his dad but the man wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t think you—I mean, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t have to,” he finally met his son’s eyes. “I wanted to. Look Miles, I can’t pretend I approve of this... _lifestyle_ of yours, but—“ he sighed, “I recognize that you’re a role model for these kids. I want you to think about what kind of example you’re setting. A wise man once said, with great power—“

“Yeah, yeah” Miles sighed. “Great responsibility, I know dad.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence that fell over them. Miles could feel the tension weighing on them like a dense fog.

“I’m disappointed, Miles.”

“Get in line.”

“I’m _disappointed_ ,” he continued, “because I always thought you would become a cop like your old man. This isn’t what I wanted for you, Miles.”

“You said he’s a hero—when you gave me this,“ he rummaged around his desk, pulling one of his comics from under a stack of school books. “You said I could learn a thing or two from him. That was me, dad.”

“This world isn’t black and white, Miles. If you learn anything from me, I hope it’s this. In your world of heroes and villains, it may seem like everything is good versus evil, but trust me: it always falls somewhere in between. The criminals I bring back to the station? Well, some of them are bad apples, but a lot of them—and I mean this, Miles—are good guys who took the wrong path. Mental illness, drugs, abuse...life has put these guys through the ringer, and when it does, that’s when they have to make a choice.

“So the way I see it, you can be a hero, but does that make you the good guy? In the eyes of the law—not always. Every day, you have to keep making the right choice. Or this world will chew you up and spit you out, and when it does, you’re going to find yourself on the wrong side of justice.”

That gave Miles pause. He understood, and in a way, he knew his dad was right. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

“Thanks, dad. That’s actually really good advice.”

“Why do you seem so surprised?” he teased. “It’s good that we can have these talks, now that we don’t have secrets anymore.”

 _Secrets_. His heart started pounding wildly, but he recognized this was his moment, and he wasn’t going to let it get away.

“Yeah, about that...” he sighed, bracing himself for impact. He winced as the words left his mouth, “I’m gay, dad.”

* * *

Miles paced his dorm anxiously, a sick feeling in his gut and an ache in his heart. Just a couple hours earlier, he’d confessed to his dad, and now he was filled with regret. His dad was shocked, panicked—lectured him about about trust and honor. There was yelling. His mom got in the middle, but his dad told him to leave, to give him time to think. He wasn’t sure if his dad was disappointed that he was gay, or just that he had been keeping so many secrets from him that were coming to a head.

He walked the 14 blocks to school feeling sorry for himself. He’d pushed away Peter and his dad, and while his mom was sympathetic, he didn’t want to worry her any more than he already had. Ganke was at home like he was every Sunday night. Miles was alone in his self-deprecation.

He pulled out his school laptop, looking over his calendar and assignments for the upcoming week.

 _Shit_.

His art project was due tomorrow—it had already been two weeks, and the day was coming to a close. He swallowed his pride and sent a text, not knowing if Jimmy was even at school on weekends.

_Project due tomorrow, can you drop by with your book so we can finish?_

_Thought you was never gonna ask._

When Jimmy came to his room, it was 7 o’clock. Miles had already spread his art supplies across his desk and cleared a space at Ganke’s for Jimmy to work. He needed to put some physical space between them.

Jimmy showed up smelling good— _why did he notice that?_ He was wearing a denim jacket, distressed joggers, boots, and a fitted white t-shirt. It wasn’t lost on Miles that he had spent way too much time noticing every piece of clothing the older boy was wearing—how he smelled, how his hair looked with a couple dreads tucked behind his ear and the rest in his signature knot on top of his head, and worst of all how he gave Miles butterflies in his stomach. Did he learn anything at all from their last meeting?

He had already practiced in his head how this would go. He wouldn’t say a word about their last encounter, and if Jimmy broached the topic, he would feign innocence. Play it off like it was no big deal. ‘ _Hey man, it happens. It’s whatever_ ,’ he’d smirk with a shrug, before turning back to his project.

He had it all under control.

Except Jimmy _didn’t_ mention it, and for some reason that irritated him as he inked in another sketch. They’d been working in silence for a while, which is why Miles hadn’t even noticed that Jimmy got up and closed the space between them, standing behind Miles’ chair and leaning over him. The older boy rested a hand on Miles’ shoulder, giving it a rough squeeze.

“Looks good,” he whispered into Miles’ ear. It sent a shiver down his body. He could feel Jimmy’s eyes on him. “The art ain’t too bad, either.”

Miles whimpered, against his own willpower. _What the hell am I doing?_

Jimmy slammed his art book down on the desk in front of Miles. “I made some changes to your story,” his tone annoyed Miles—arrogant and confident as if Miles had no say in the matter. He lingered for a moment before pulling away from Miles, making his way to the bed and presumptuously laying on the bottom bunk, propped up against Ganke’s pillow.

“I kept the part where the original Spider-Man comes to save the mayor. But now this part he gets captured, and the black Spider-Man shows up to finish the job. On the last page—“ Jimmy gestured toward the book, “—he unmasks.”

Miles rolled his eyes, “why does he look like me?”

Jimmy shrugged, feigning innocence. Miles wanted to hurt him almost as much as he wanted to kiss him. “You’d be a hot Spider-Man.”

“You shouldn’t lay there. That’s my roommate’s bed.”

“You want me to lay on yours?”

“No, I just can’t focus like this.” That was the wrong thing to say.

“Do I distract you, Miles?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You thinking ‘bout when you kissed me?”

“I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me,” Miles’ voice was flat and emotionless. He was trying to keep himself in check.

“You kissed me back,” Jimmy’s voice was soft and teasing. “I bet you’ve been thinking about it.”

Miles’ heart was pounding and his face felt hot and sweaty. “Jimmy, don’t—“

“I could kiss you again.” Everything about Jimmy was different from Peter. He was assertive and a little bit cocky, but not in an aggressive way—he was curious and playful, teasing Miles affectionately. 

Miles’ hands gripped the arms of his desk chair as if his life depended on it. He knew if he got up from this chair—if he even entertained the idea—it would be too late for him. He would cross a line he’d never find his way back from.

“Come here, Miles,” he challenged, teasing and playful and so enticing.

Miles all but whimpered at the proposition. “I, uh—I’ve got a few more pages to do. You gonna come finish this or what?”

“Bring it to me.”

“Nah stop playing, Jimmy.”

“I’m not gonna kiss you, aight? Just bring it here real quick.”

He was either going to come to his senses and tell Jimmy to go sit down and finish the project, or he was going to lose control completely. Even though he already belonged to someone else. Even though he knew it was wrong. Even though he loved Peter with every ounce of his being, regardless of whatever fight they’d had earlier. Miles felt like he had no control over his body or his impulses as he stood from his chair, crossing the room with Jimmy’s art book in hand. He held it out to the other boy nervously.

Jimmy took it and tossed it on the floor.

He turned to go, but Jimmy reached out and grabbed his wrist roughly, grinning sheepishly. “Look, Miles,” he released his hold on Miles’ wrist, and with that he gripped himself through his pants, revealing the outline of his erection through his joggers. “You wanna see my dick?”

Miles groaned, biting his lip. He wanted to turn away, but he was fixated. _It couldn’t hurt just to look, could it?_ He was walking the line so dangerously, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to turn back and look away. He shook his head no in a pathetic contrast to the soft moan in his throat as he stood awkwardly beside the bed—a last-ditch plea to put a stop to it. Jimmy saw right through him.

When Jimmy freed his erection from his pants, he knew it was too late.

“How’s that look?” the older boy teased, grabbing it at the base. It was longer than his own dick, maybe even longer than Peter’s—thick juicy head leaking at the tip. He wanted to taste it, to wrap two hands around it and still have more room to fit his mouth over the rest. Jimmy was idly stroking himself as Miles watched on helplessly.

“Um...I don’t think—”

“You wanna touch it?”

Miles closed his eyes, feeling the blood rush to his cock in arousal. He knew it was wrong, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself it was just two guys being young and horny—just normal teenager stuff. With his eyes closed, unable to look at Jimmy, he shook his head no.

“Bet you’d look real good bouncing on that shit too.”

Miles was so hard in his pants, there was no way Jimmy didn’t know. His hand wandered to his own erection, giving it a hard painful squeeze as if somehow that would make it go away. He moaned against his own will, against his better judgement.

“Damn boy, I guess you’re not as innocent as I been thinking.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah? I wanna make you my boyfriend and find out.”

 _Fuck, this was bad. Like_ really _fucking bad._ He had never been so hard in his life. He bit his lip until he tasted his own blood.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Are you nervous? You never been with a guy before, huh?”

“I have...”

“Yeah? How many dicks you had?”

“Just one.”

“Bigger than mine?”

“No...”

“You ever get fucked by a guy before?” This guy asked too many questions, each one digging Miles a deeper hole than the last. Miles’ conscience was _s_ _creaming_ in his head to stop, to shut the hell up, to put an end to it and walk away—and he really tried. _He wasn’t going to cheat on Peter. He didn’t want this. He was a good boyfriend._

Miles nodded, squeezing at his own erection helplessly.

“Oh you can take a dick, huh? You look like you would.”

“I don’t think we should—“

A key rattled in the door. _Ganke._ Miles cursed in a moment of both panic and relief as Jimmy hurriedly tucked himself back into his pants.

Miles wasn’t sure just how much his friend saw, but when Ganke stepped into the room and looked them over, his jaw dropped. It must have looked about as bad as it actually was— _worse_ , even. Ganke looked back and forth between Miles and Jimmy, his expression shifting from shock to disgust.

He looked Miles dead in the eyes, brows furrowed into something like disappointment. “Your boyfriend is waiting outside.”


	25. Chapter 23

When Miles stepped out into the chilly April night, it was just starting to rain. His hands were shaking and his head was pounding painfully. He’d only had about a minute to think as he made his way down the dormitory elevator and out onto the street where parents were dropping their kids off for the school week ahead. Miles squinted through the glow of the streetlights and spotted Peter across the street. He was leaning against a lamp pole with his hands stuffed in his pockets, wearing nothing but sweats and a white t-shirt as he got showered with cold rain. Miles pulled his jacket tighter around himself.

He ran to Peter and all but collapsed against the man’s body. As Peter wrapped strong arms around him, Miles sobbed pathetically into his damp chest, clinging to him tightly.

“Baby, I’m so sorry—“ Peter whispered into his wet hair.

“Don’t say it!” Miles cried. He didn’t deserve it; he should be on his knees begging.

“Come on, let’s get you home. It’s 8 blocks to my place—can you walk it?”

Miles nodded.

Peter wrapped an arm protectively around Miles’ shoulders, guiding him through the city streets as they got pelted with rain. It felt like they were walking in slow motion. When they finally made their way up to the 3rd story apartment, Peter picked him up and carried him inside.

Miles was numb. Everything was a blur—Peter carrying him to the bed, stripping off their wet clothes, tucking him in carefully and curling up under the covers beside him. Miles’ naked body was cold, and he melted into Peter in search of warmth. The older man kissed his tear-stained cheeks, hummed soothingly to him, and stroked his face.

“Shhh,” he soothed, “I’ve got you. We’re gonna be okay.” Peter’s voice was so comforting, he almost believed it. He held Miles’ smaller frame close against his bare skin, rubbing circles on the small of his back as he whispered against his ear. Every inch of their bodies were touching. “It’s okay, baby boy. I’m so sorry.”

Miles’ body physically recoiled at the word _sorry,_ as if Peter had anything to apologize for. The one who was sorry was Miles. He felt sorry for himself—how everything in his life was a mess because of his own decisions. He thought about his dad’s words: _Every day, you have to make the right choice._ He didn’t choose to be Spider-Man. He didn’t choose to be gay, or to fall in love with Peter. But he _did_ choose his actions, and how he responded to what life had handed him. He sobbed quietly into Peter’s bare chest.

He tried so hard to think of the right things to say—as if he could magically explain it all away if only he had the right words. He’d let Peter down in so many ways—pulled the security of their relationship out from beneath them by involving May and his parents. Questioned whether they could make it through when all was said and done. Showed weakness when someone else tested the strength of their relationship. He wanted to say all those things, but knew the words wouldn’t come out right.

“Peter,” he choked out his name pathetically. “Peter.” It was all he could say.

“I’ve been so selfish, Miles,” Peter mumbled into his hair. “You’ve been going through _so_ much, and I haven’t been there for you.”

“No,” Miles sniffled, “please don’t.” He pulled back a little to look at Peter, laying face-to-face on the pillow—their lower bodies still pressed together as he took Peter’s hand in his. The moment felt intimate and intense; it overwhelmed him. “I met Jimmy tonight—to finish the project.” He watched as Peter’s expression turned from sympathy to pain.

“You didn’t tell me...” Peter looked puzzled.

“I know, Peter. I forgot the project is due tomorrow—it wasn’t planned.”

“ _Please_ ,” Peter pleaded with him, “tell me nothing happened.”

“I—I told him not to,” Miles’ eyes filled with fresh tears. “I didn’t want to.”

“God, Miles,” he hissed. “If he did anything, if he hurt you...” Peter’s hand was squeezing his so tight, and his voice was a low growl, “... _I’m going to kill him._ ”

“It was my fault,” Miles sighed, closing his eyes shut tight. It was too much to look into Peter’s eyes when he felt so ashamed. “I let it go too far.”

_“What did you do?”_

“It’s not like that—we didn’t do anything. I just...he tried to make a move, and I don’t know if I made it clear enough that I—“ he couldn’t get the words out through his cries.

“What do you mean ‘make a move’?” Peter’s voice was surprisingly even and calm given the circumstances.

“He asked me to be his boyfriend,” Miles choked out. “He wanted me to touch him,” Miles added with a low whisper, “and more.” He couldn’t say the rest. It would break Peter—he’d never stop thinking about it.

Peter stared at him through the dim lighting. His silence was louder than words.

“I didn’t—we didn’t...I said no, Peter.”

“How did he ask you? Like what did he say?”

“I-I can’t, Peter.”

“I’m not mad, I just want to know how he said it.”

Miles sighed in defeat, “he said I...um, that I would look good on his dick. That I look like I could take it.” Humiliated, Miles sniffled again, trying to hold back his tears. He closed his eyes once more as a tear spilled over.

Peter stroked his cheek soothingly, “look at me.” His face was soft and forgiving as he looked deeply into Miles’ eyes. “It’s not your fault—do you understand?” He leaned in to kiss the boy’s forehead, his wet cheeks, his nose. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m _weak_ , Peter.” Miles stared back at him, his voice steadying with resolve. “If Ganke hadn’t walked in, I—“ he shook his head, as if to clear away the dark thoughts that surfaced, “I’m not sure I’m strong enough. I didn’t want to, but...”

“You thought about it...”

Miles bit his lip, looking away from Peter. He didn’t have to answer—his face had already given it away. He watched the steady rising and falling of Peter’s chest, in awe of his calm presence. A long silence followed, and when he worked up the nerve to look into Peter’s eyes again, he was amazed to see tears on the man’s cheeks.

“I’m gonna tell my parents tomorrow...about us.”

Peter looked like he’d been snapped out of a daze.

“I can’t wait another day, Peter. I need them to know—I need everyone to know. I need this to be real, not just another lie.” Miles reached out, wiping his thumb across Peter’s wet cheek. “I just wanted to feel normal, Peter. I just wanna have what everyone else has. I don’t want any more secrets.”

Peter nodded. “I’ll call May in the morning.”

* * *

Miles’ alarm went off at 7 on Monday morning. The first school bell wasn’t until 8:05, and since Peter’s place was only about a 10 minute walk to class, he wasn’t in a hurry. Peter wasn’t in bed—unusual for a weekday morning. It wasn’t uncommon for Miles to leave for school while Peter slept through the alarm.

He sat up, remembering that he was still naked under the covers, and in that moment he felt vulnerable—wanted to cover himself up. He wasn’t sure where his wet clothes were from the night before, so he went to Peter’s closet and pulled out some athletic pants and a t-shirt, along with some clean underwear and socks. They were too big, but they smelled like Peter and felt comforting, like being wrapped in one of his hugs.

Peter walked in, looking tired and rough around the edges, but he gave Miles a soft smile as he handed him a plate of food. “It was supposed to be breakfast in bed, but you’re not in bed anymore.”

Miles smirked weakly, climbing back into bed and tucking the blanket around his waist as he lay propped up against the pillows. Peter joined him, giving him a plate of waffles and fruit. Miles was starving—he hadn’t eaten the night before. He kissed Peter on the cheek appreciatively and got to eating.

“I’ve been, uh...learning how to cook for you,” he rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Trying to, anyway. I want to take care of you, Miles. I want to provide for you.”

“Is this about yesterday? Peter, you know I didn’t mean that,” he set his fork down, turning to face the older man as he recalled their argument the afternoon before. “I don’t expect you to take care of me. I’m gonna pay my half of the rent. You don’t have to do all this for me.”

“I want to,” he shrugged. “I’ve never made waffles, but Aunt May got me this waffle maker as a housewarming gift when I moved in and I—“

“You did good, man,” he assured him. “I’m impressed—these are delicious.” He punctuated his words with another bite of food. “I love you, Peter.”

Peter stared at him lovingly as he ate, rubbing Miles’ leg through the blanket. It felt like things were normal between them— _better_ than normal, even. It only made him all the more ashamed for letting Peter down....for letting _everyone_ down. He didn’t deserve Peter—to be loved unconditionally, even after he kept fucking things up.

Peter could sense his mood shifting and squeezed his leg reassuringly. “Whatever you’re thinking about... _stop_.”

“You’re too good for me, Peter.”

“That’s funny,” Peter laughed dryly, rolling his eyes.

“I’m going to tell my parents today—I mean it,” he finished his food and set the plate on the bedside table before laying on his side to face Peter. “I just hope May comes through with a plan. I’m done with secrets. Last night I told my dad that I’m gay. He kicked me out...said he needed time to think.”

“Oh Miles, you should’ve told me. I would’ve picked you up sooner.”

“It was right after we got off the phone, and I...”

“...Called Jimmy instead.”

“Don’t say his name. God, he’s _nothing_ to me, Peter.”

“It’s my fault, Miles,” Peter’s face fell, looking hurt. “If I hadn’t made such a big deal about the book signing, you would’ve been here with me instead of—“ he couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

“I should’ve kissed you! Don’t you get it? This is my fault! I wanted to kiss you...this is why I have to tell them. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Come here,” Peter whispered softly. Miles obliged, finding his way into the man’s arms where he felt safe and secure. “After today, none of it will matter anymore, okay? Whatever secrets you’ve been keeping from your parents, whatever lies we’ve had to tell others, whoever has tried to come between us—it won’t matter. We’re gonna be together, Miles.”

Miles looked up at Peter, finding his lips with his own. “I’ve gotta get to class.”

“I’ll wait for you after school.”

* * *

Ganke wouldn’t even look at Miles in homeroom. It was lunchtime when they finally talked, and that was only because Miles had gone looking for him. He found his friend outside, sitting with a group of guys from their math class.

“Ganke, can we talk?”

Ganke shrugged, “I’ll think about it.”

“Aight, guess I’ll see you after school,” he turned and walked away slowly, knowing full well that Ganke would come after him any moment.

“Don’t be like that, Miles! Wait up!” Ganke ran after him, huffing and puffing. 

“Why’d you blow me off, man?”

“It’s called playing hard to get,” he frowned as they made their way to an empty picnic table. “You should‘ve tried that on Jimmy instead of—“

“Keep it down, dude! Listen,” he looked around for any eavesdroppers, “nothing happened between me and Jimmy.”

“Did that work on Peter? ‘Cause it’s not gonna work on me—I saw what happened, and it didn’t look like ‘nothing’,” the boy folded his arms defiantly. “How could you do this to us, Miles? I was really rooting for you and Peter, and you let me down.”

“I tried to stop him—he was coming on really strong.“

“He assaulted you?!”

“What? _No_ , I guess I just...wasn’t firm enough. I think he took that as encouragement.”

“So you said no—“

“I mean, I shook my head no. I can’t remember if I said the word or not.”

“Okay, I’m not following.”

Miles looked around again as if someone were waiting to pop out of the bushes at any moment. “It’s like this. He was trying to make a move on me, said he was gonna make me his boyfriend.”

“Why was he laying on my bed? And why were you standing so close to him? Why was his dick out? _Come on,_ Miles—it could’ve touched my bed...not cool!”

“I was giving him his book and he took his dick out—I dunno, man. I wasn’t trying to see it, but it was _there,_ and I was there. He smelled so good and I just—it didn’t go any further than that.”

“So where’s the part when you said no?”

“I can’t remember, man! When you came in, I...“ Miles sighed, “I’m just really glad you showed up, okay? I don’t know what I was thinking. It was like every time I tried, I couldn’t look away. Nothing else happened.”

“So he flashed his dick and you liked it.”

“I mean, I guess I liked it, but the point is I tried to say no. Maybe I didn’t _say_ no, but I shook my head. Does that count?”

“I think so,” Ganke shrugged. “Did he _see_ you shake your head, or was it subtle?”

“I don’t know, I—“

“Was it like _this_?” Ganke shook his head wildly, making a show of it. “Or like this?” he subtly cocked his head to the side.

“Definitely neither of those. I guess somewhere in between.”

“Can you show me?”

“I’m not gonna—okay look,” Miles sighed in exasperation, “it was like this.” He shook his head for Ganke as the bell for next period rang.

“I dunno, dude,” Ganke shrugged, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, “it wasn’t that convincing. So are you and Peter gonna break up?”

“What? Nah, man. You know Peter—he blames himself. We had a fight earlier that day, so he felt bad about it. We’re good, though. I’m gonna text Jimmy before art—tell him to stay away from me. I feel like I owe that much to Peter.”

* * *

Miles never got the chance to text Jimmy before art class; he had 2 tests that afternoon, and a history presentation. By the time he strolled into art, he was the last one to take his seat. For the last 2 weeks, he had been sitting with Jimmy as they worked through their project, but today he found an empty table in the back corner on the opposite side of the room. He pulled his phone out in his lap.

Miles went over the words in his head about a hundred times before he could find a way to say them.

M: _After today, I think you should stay away from me_

He watched as the other pairs of students went up and presented their books. It would be the last time he would talk to Jimmy. After today, he was going to ask his guidance counselor to switch his art period to an earlier slot—even though it meant Ganke wouldn’t be in his class anymore. Miles wondered if Jimmy had seen his message, stole sideways glances at the boy from across the room.

Finally, he texted back.

J: _it’s funny cuz ur the one who didn’t tell me u had a bf. kinda sus, nah?_

M: _Nothing happened, and it’s gonna stay that way_

J: _didn’t feel like nothin when u kissed me_

M: _Felt like nothing to me_

J: _that’s fucked bro, I caught feelings for u. how u gon play me like that?_

Miles head was pounding, blood rushing until he could barely hear the presentation in the front of class. _Caught feelings_. He felt sick to his stomach with guilt, even though Jimmy probably didn’t deserve it. He had to close the door on whatever this was—couldn’t leave any room for doubts, for what-ifs. He should’ve been assertive in the first place, but all he could do is draw a line in the sand where he stood and set things straight now. He had to do this for Peter—even if it hurt to be so heartless.

M: _Sounds like a you prob, not a me prob. You don’t know how to take no for an answer_

J: _u ain’t feel anything for me?_

M: _No, it’s nothing to me_

J: _does ur bf know about us?_

Just then, Mr. Garcia called them up for their presentation. It was so uncomfortably awkward, Miles thought he’d disappear. It took all his focus to stay grounded in the moment as he presented the book he’d drawn about Jimmy and his brother. When Jimmy presented his book, Miles had to look away so he wouldn’t see his face.

When it was over, he stayed behind as the other students shuffled out at the sound of the last bell—even Jimmy.

He sent one final text.

_Don’t worry about him, we’re good. Hope you find what you’re looking for, but it’s not me._

* * *

When he got out of class, Peter was waiting for him outside with a hoodie pulled up around his face. Most of the other kids had already gone back to their dorms, while a few lingered in the school courtyard. They’d usually meet a couple blocks down, but today Miles didn’t care. He told Peter to wait for him outside the doors of the school building.

“Take that hood off—you look mad suspicious,” he laughed.

Peter leaned in for a quick kiss, “you think when people realize I’m a grown man they’re going to be any _less_ suspicious? You know even after you tell your parents, we still have to be careful, right? For another year and a half, anyway.”

“I know,” Miles sighed. “I don’t want you to go to jail. But can we just...pretend we’re a normal couple, just for today?”

Peter lowered his hood before lifting Miles’ chin up for another kiss, his lips lingering on Miles’ just long enough that he felt butterflies in in stomach. He took Peter’s hand in his as they turned to make the walk back to his apartment, when he stopped dead in his tracks. Jimmy had been watching them from a bench just across the courtyard. Miles could practically feel Peter turning to follow his gaze, locking eyes on Jimmy.

“Is that...”

Miles tugged at Peter’s hand to keep walking, but Peter’s feet were firmly planted on the ground. He wanted to say no, but Peter already knew. He could feel it in the way Peter’s whole body tensed up beside him and his grip tightened around Miles’ hand. “Peter, _don’t_ —“

He watched helplessly as Peter stared Jimmy down, his eyes burning with pain. Miles never wanted Peter to have a face to put with the name. It would only eat him up inside and fill the void with jealousy. He was going to have to live up to his word—that he would do whatever it takes to prove to Peter that he belonged only to him, that nobody else would ever be enough.

After a while, Jimmy got up and walked back toward the school building. Finally, Peter begrudgingly allowed Miles to drag him away. He pulled Peter aside, stopping near the school basketball court and taking out his phone. “Here,” he pulled up his messages to Jimmy and handed the phone to Peter, “read this.” Peter scrolled through wordlessly before slipping the phone back in Miles’ pocket.

Peter pulled the boy in close, hugging him tightly to his chest. “I needed that today.” He buried his face in Miles’ hair, kissing his curls and nuzzling his face in them. “Let’s go meet Aunt May.”


	26. Chapter 24

The second intervention didn’t go as planned.

“Sweetie, your dad isn’t ready,” Aunt May squeezed Miles’ shoulder to lessen the blow. “Your mom doesn’t think it’s a good idea. He’s not in a good place right now.”

Peter, May, and Miles sat around Peter’s dining table going over the details of the next phase of their plan. His parents would finally know all of his truths. He would be free from the pressure of living in lies and secrecy—except that things never seemed to go according to plan.

Miles’ mom took it all in stride. Even though she tried to conceal her initial disappointment, she supported him through his coming out. And even though some days she still cried when the Spider-Man topic was raised, she was proud of him. He stumbled upon a box in her closet one night while she was working and he was looking for some old school textbooks—she’d been collecting things. Memorabilia, newspaper articles, magazine covers. He hugged his mom extra tight that night she when dropped him off to school.

His dad had been a wrench in his plans. 

Peter had warned him about doing it in the wrong order (“gay first, _then_ Spider-Man. Trust me, it’s the snowball effect. You build up to it.”), but he knew his dad well enough to know he’d rather his son be Spider-Man than be gay—and he was right. There was broken trust between them over the Spider-Man reveal, but he found his dad was coming around to at least _talking_ about the reality of the situation. He didn’t like it, but he acknowledged it. They waded through the tense waters a little more each day, and it was starting to feel like they would make it through to the other side someday.

And then suddenly, the waves were crashing in on them again. The look of _pain_ on his dad’s face to learn his son was gay was enough to keep Miles awake at night. “We raised you better than this, Miles,” as if he had chosen to live this way as an act of obstinance. His dad wasn’t homophobic; he was fine with people being gay as long as they weren’t his son.

Miles was ready to lay all his cards on the table. It didn’t matter that his dad hadn’t come around yet—adding one more person to a sinking ship wouldn’t change the fact that it was sinking, just as piling on one more layer of truth wouldn’t save him from drowning.

“So that’s it, the plan is off?” The disappointment in Miles’ voice was measurable.

“Not exactly,” she turned to Miles. “Your mom’s been really supportive throughout all of this, and I think we could use her help. Let’s use that to our advantage.”

“I don’t know,” Miles sighed. “I don’t want to put my mom in a tough spot between me and my dad.”

“I think I have an idea,” May mused. “I spoke to your mom, and she knows we have some business to discuss. I’m sure she’s anxious to know. Let’s have her come here.”

May called Miles’ mom, and the 3 of them spent the next hour going over the plans while they waited. They rehearsed their lines, got their stories straight, and practiced their reactions.

“Guess I’m not gonna finish my homework tonight,” Miles groaned.

Miles had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he knew May wouldn’t let him down. She was practical and resourceful in ways he’d never seen before, and there was nothing in this world she couldn’t talk her way out of. She had carefully crafted them a story so infallible, even Miles was convinced.

“How’d you get so good at lying, May? You should work for the FBI,” Miles smirked.

“Honey, when you’ve spent your life guarding the secret identity of _three_ different Spider-Men, you learn a thing or two about embellishing the truth.”

It was 6:00 when they buzzed in Miles’ mom. Miles’ heart was racing, hands sweating and shaking as they got into position. May was firing off orders (“Peter, sit next to Miles—not _that_ close. Miles, put the notes away. For God’s _sake_ , Peter, go put on a clean shirt!”)

_Knock Knock_

The initial awkwardness of the meeting as Rio greeted May and Peter was dulled when she pulled Miles in for a tight hug. The worry in her gaze was showing in the dark circles under her eyes. It had been a rough week for the woman—her son coming out as gay _and_ Spider-Man in little more than a week. Miles heart ached with guilt; he knew this was all moving too fast, but living these lies was enough pressure that his heart would sooner burst than keep it all inside for another day.

“I know our first meeting wasn’t on the best of terms,” May offered up as they sat around the square table, “but I hope that we’ll grow to know each other, in time. I know a little of what you’re going through.”

“Thank you,” Rio nodded. “You’ve been really kind. My husband, Jeff—“

May held a hand up, “don’t mention it. I have a good feeling he’ll come around. Peter, could you get us some drinks?”

Rio took her jacket off and folded it in her lap. “Is that your son?”

“You know, I never had any children of my own. When Peter’s parents died, I wondered how I could ever fill that void. But when I look at what’s left of him now—pictures, memories,” she gave a sad smile, “I see my son.”

Peter came back with drinks, and Miles could see his mom eyeing the man curiously.

“I’m so sorry,” she offered May a comforting smile before turning again to look at Peter. “It’s just that—he looks so much like your nephew. Brothers?”

Peter remained silent and looked to May. They’d expected this to happen—after all, her nephew’s face had been plastered all over every news station for months after he died, drawing national attention. Not to mention, May had slid a photo of him right under her nose little more than a week ago. It was part of the plan. 

“Funny you should ask,” May said bluntly, “since that’s why we’ve asked you here.”

Rio looked at each of them, puzzled. “I’m not sure if I—“

“I’ll explain,” May interrupted. “Do you remember what I told you about the Collider?”

“Um, I think so. It’s like a portal to other worlds?”

May nodded. “Your son destroyed it. He saved countless lives that day.”

Rio smiled at her son, “that’s right...and sent the other Spider-Men home.”

“You’re a sharp one. So now that we’re all up to speed here, I’d like to remind you that one other Spider-Man stayed behind.”

Rio shrugged, “I don’t really remember.”

“It was a lot to take in,” May sympathized. “Let’s get you caught up. So your son here, with a little help from some spider friends, destroyed the Collider. Everybody went home, yada yada. But _one_ Spider-Man didn’t go home—he stayed behind,” Rio was staring at Peter now, “...and you’re looking at him.”

Rio’s mouth hung slack in confusion.

May continued, “Rio, this is Peter. Peter, Rio. Or maybe Mrs. Morales, to you.”

Rio blinked a few times, as if coming out of a daze. “Please, just Rio,” she nodded.

“Care to take a guess why Mr. Parker here looks the spitting image of my nephew, Peter Parker?” May stifled a smirk, trying to hide her amusement at the situation.

“He’s not—I mean, you’re not—“ she looked back and forth between May and Peter. “Is it him?”

May laughed, shaking her head. “No, we haven’t cracked the code to eternal life. My nephew is still no longer with us.”

Miles was watching his mom’s expression carefully, trying to gauge her reactions. The plan was in motion.

“What we’ve learned from Peter here,” she gestured toward him, “is that we have interdimensional counterparts. What I _mean_ is, there are copies of us, in other dimensions. Peter here is another _version_ of my nephew, in his dimension. They’re two separate people. Maybe in Peter’s world, there’s another version of _you_ ,” she nodded toward Rio. “Maybe in Peter’s world, Miles is a grown man with a family of his own. You get the idea.”

Rio was speechless, just as they’d expected. Everything May had told her up until this moment had been completely truthful. Carrying out the rest of the plan would require a lie. At first, Miles had protested it (“the whole _point_ of doing this was to _stop_ with all the secrets!”), but it became clear that the only way to pull this off was with one final lie. Peter agreed, this was the only way. And so Miles begrudgingly accepted it.

“And you can’t go back?” Rio asked Peter directly. He shook his head.

May kept the discussion going. “We also _learned_ —” she looked at Miles knowingly, gauging his readiness to move forward. This part was absolutely critical to the plan. “—We learned that time passes differently in other dimensions.”

“Are you from the future or something?” Rio asked Peter.

“Not exactly,” May shook her head. “You see, in our dimension, time passes roughly twice as fast as Peter’s.”

“So that means...” Rio trailed off with a shrug. It was obvious she had no idea what that meant.

“In my world, I’d be celebrating my 18th birthday in August,” Peter finally spoke up. “But I guess here I’m something like 40.”

Rio’s eyes went wide. “So you’re—“

“A kid,” Peter sighed with a weak smile.

“Why did you stay? Don’t you have family that’s missing you? Aren’t you—“

Peter shook his head. “In my world, my Aunt May died. I was on my own.”

“Oh my God—I can’t even imagine,” Rio shook her head, looking sympathetic.

“May here takes care of me, now,” Peter smiled. “Things are a lot better for me here.”

“So you’re...like Miles,” Rio smiled at him, “another Spider-Man.”

He nodded. “We’ve been working as a team. Y’know actually, at the book signing...”

“It was you,” Rio was looking at him with piqued curiosity. “By the way, I liked your book.”

Peter thanked her and they chatted a bit about publishing their first book together. The conversation was pleasant, if not somewhat formal—which was to be expected given the strange circumstances of their meeting.

She was keeping up with everything they threw at her up until that point. They were about to find out if she could catch the final curveball. She had been so patient and gracious thus far, asking questions and following along, but it was obvious she was waiting anxiously for the kicker. She knew well enough they didn’t sit her down to just have a friendly chat about the nuances of interdimensional travel and send her on her way.

Peter reached under the table and gave Miles’ leg a gentle, reassuring squeeze. That was the signal. Peter could sense his tension and took Miles’ hand in his own under the table, stroking it soothingly with his thumb as Miles prepared for the final blow.

“Mami...”

She turned her attention to Miles, and maybe he was imagining it, but it seemed like she knew something was about to happen. She chewed her lower lip anxiously, eyes shifting nervously between each of them as if she knew they all had some secret that she wasn’t in on.

His heart was beating in his chest so fast that it was almost painful. Miles looked to Peter. He needed to see his face to remind him of why he was doing this, so he wouldn’t back down. Peter smiled, giving a little nod of encouragement, and in that moment it meant everything. Peter’s face was the calm and steady presence he needed; his familiar worn features had never looked so perfect.

“I’ve known Peter for a long time,” he locked eyes with Peter’s for a fleeting moment. “Like two and a half years. Everything I’ve been through these last couple years...we’ve been through together. I...I uh,” he closed his eyes, “I love him, ma. We’ve been together for a few months, and best friends for a lot longer.”

He opened his eyes—needed to know if it was going to be okay.

Rio put her hand to her mouth, tears filling her eyes. She let out a choked sob. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled, “it’s not your fault, Peter. It’s just...it’s a lot to take in.”

“I know,” May sympathized, “it’s going to take time.” She patted Rio on the shoulder.

“Your papi isn’t going to like this,” her voice was steadying as she sniffled loudly. “The last week has been really rough on him.”

“I don’t care what dad thinks!” Miles’ voice was stronger, more self-assured. “This is who I am, ma. I can’t change that. If I didn’t have Peter I wouldn’t even _be_ here. He’s saved my life more times than I can count.”

Rio nodded, wiping her tears away on the back of her hand. “And I’m grateful for that. Thank you, Peter.”

“I made a promise to Miles, that I would protect him,” Miles looked at Peter curiously—this wasn’t in the script. “On my worst days, when it hit me that I was trapped in a world I don’t belong in, that promise is what kept me going. When I felt alone, Miles was there. I wouldn’t be here without him, either.”

Miles had expected himself to cry—hell, he’d even planned on it—but he never imagined it would be from the overwhelming sense of love he felt for Peter. Peter squeezed Miles’ hand, still clasped in his own.

“I’ll work on your father,” Rio assured him. “He’ll come around, but it’s not the right time. He’s scared baby—I know it feels like he doesn’t approve, but he’s just hurt. He’s tired of all the secrets and he feels like he doesn’t know you anymore. But I know he loves you more than anyone in this world, and he wants you to come home.”

“What about you?”

Rio’s hands gestured wildly, “ _Are you serious?_ Miles, of course I want you home!”

“Nah, I meant—do you feel like you don’t know me, either?”

“No,” she smiled. “I feel like I know you better now.”

* * *

Rio left with a promise from Peter that he’d bring Miles back to school, and May left shortly after—not before telling them how proud she was of both of them.

“It’s almost 7:30. Should I bring you back so you can finish your homework? I promised your mom...”

“Nah chill, I’m not doing homework now. My brain is fried after that.”

“Let’s lay down. I think as long as I bring you in the morning, I’ve kept my end of the deal.”

Miles agreed. “I won’t tell.” They headed to the bedroom. Miles was still in his school uniform. He’d been wearing it all this time so his mom wouldn’t know he was keeping spare clothes at Peter’s—it just seemed like a detail she didn’t need to know yet.

Peter guided Miles to lay back on the bed, sitting beside him and helping him out of his school clothes. His fingers worked at the knot in Miles’ tie. “Am I messed up for thinking you look sexy in your school uniform?” He slipped the tie off, tossing it to the floor before turning his attention to the stubborn button at the collar of Miles’ shirt.

“You’re messed up,” Miles teased, “but that’s not the reason.”

Peter playfully shushed him as he worked his way down, slowly unfastening each button. He abandoned his efforts to focus his attention on the exposed flesh of Miles’ neck and chest, attentively kissing at the expanse of bare skin.

“Did you mean that?” Miles asked, his breath short and ragged. “About the promise to me. It wasn’t in the script.”

Peter mumbled against Peter’s neck, “I did promise you that, didn’t I? It wasn’t in the script because I was speaking from my heart.” _Romantic_ _Peter_. It was a side he was usually too guarded to show, which made it all the more meaningful when he did.

“I-I don’t really remember,” Miles sighed, reveling in the sensation of Peter’s lips on his bare neck.

Peter straightened up to look at Miles, cupping the boy’s face in his hands. “I do.” He lay back on the bed beside Miles, resting his head on the boy’s shoulder and curling into him. “It wasn’t that long after I first met you, actually,” he mused. “We had that run-in with those mob guys in Queens.”

“Yeah, I remember that night—we almost got killed.”

“You were so little, Miles. I just wanted to keep you safe, keep you close to me. You were too young to be Spider-Man, and I just thought—if anything happened to you, it would be my fault.”

“I remember you were pretty messed up on the bus ride home. I thought you were gonna cry.”

“I don’t think you realized at the time how close you were to—“ Peter couldn’t say the word.

“But you saved me.”

“When I dropped you off at school that night, I promised you I would always protect you. I think I cried the whole bus ride home.”

“Did you love me then, Peter?”

“Of course I loved you. I told you that day with the Collider, didn’t I?” Peter looked wistful. “And every chance I got.”

“But did you love me...um, the way you love me _now_?” He wanted to know when Peter fell _in_ love with him; it was something he’d wanted to know for a long time. He remembered something Peter had said when they were still learning how to transition from friends to lovers. _‘If I told you how long I've been feeling this way...you'd think I was sick.’_

Peter hesitated, biting his lip. Miles looked down and could see the gears in his head turning as he furrowed his brow, deep in thought.

Peter rolled onto his back and closed his eyes as if he were ashamed. “Yes.” After a long while, he opened them to stare up at the ceiling. “That day, at the Collider...I knew I couldn’t live without you. I think if I’d left, my heart would have just split in two. That’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

Miles couldn’t find the words to say.

“It wasn’t...y’know, like...sexual or anything, yet,” he quickly added. “I knew it was selfish, but I had to be with you in whatever way I could. Even if you never felt the same—I could be your mentor and friend. I could be your protector. I didn’t think I was ever going to tell you.”

“When was it—when did you—“ he was nervous to ask, knowing Peter might put his guard up again.

Somehow Peter always read his mind. “Sexual? Last summer.” Peter sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly grappling with how much he was willing to share. “This one night we were on patrol—you probably wouldn’t remember. It was over by the piers and you wanted to sit on top of the ferry.”

“I remember.”

It was so quiet that night except the water. We were talking and we took our masks off and you just—“ Peter sighed wistfully. “I dunno, I just...I-I wanted to kiss you so bad. You looked _so_ beautiful, I couldn’t stop staring at you. I kept thinking if I could just...” he shook his head as if to clear some painful memory. “I didn’t want to take advantage of you. You were so innocent, Miles.”

“How ‘bout now?” Miles smirked as Peter turned to meet his gaze.

A pained expression tainted Peter’s features. “You’d still be if it weren’t for me.”

“I don’t wanna be innocent,” Miles whispered, his tone ripe with suggestion. “I want you to take advantage of me.”

“Don’t _say_ shit like that. I was supposed to be your protector, but the person I couldn’t protect you from was myself.”

Miles hated when Peter got in these moods with his guilt-ridden speeches and his self-loathing. It was exhausting.

“You did protect me. If I wasn’t with you, I’d be with someone else who could never love and take care of me the way you do. That’s the best thing you could’ve done for me.”

For a moment, Peter’s face softened in relief; Miles thought he’d said the right thing, and he meant it, too. But then his expression tensed up again as he processed the boy’s words. “ _Don’t ever_ —“ his voice was loud and jarring, and Miles watched as the man physically shuddered. He shook his head and found his composure. “I don’t _ever_ want to think about you with somebody else. You’re _mine_ , Miles.”

Miles was well-acquainted with Peter’s jealously complex and the effect it had on him. At his core, it made him weak and self-conscious—filled him with pain and rage. It impaired his judgement so he made poor decisions like wanting to fight a teenage girl. And yet, when the worst of it blew over, Peter liked the feeling of having something others couldn’t; it stroked his ego and made him feel powerful—turned him on. It was a complicated and layered emotion for Peter.

It took some time for Miles to understand the complexities and nuances of Peter’s jealousy, but now that he did, he wanted more. He’d tested its boundaries— _how far could he go?_ It was exciting and arousing to be the object of Peter’s jealousy, to know that Peter loved him enough to claim his as his own. And maybe it was fucked-up, but he liked the jealous sex that came with it.

“Would you have rather seen me with some other guy just so you could protect my innocence from you? It’s not like I wasn’t gonna discover sex unless you came along. If you didn’t take my virginity, somebody else would’ve.”

He knew that would get a reaction out of Peter—in fact, he was counting on it. When Peter rolled onto his side so they were facing each other, his eyes were so intense that Miles couldn’t hold his gaze. He was either terribly enraged or aroused, but either way the man was about to snap.

“If I couldn’t have you—“ he hissed, “you think I’d let anybody else get their hands on you?” He trailed his fingers from the bare skin of Miles’ chest up to his his neck, where he’d abandoned his earlier efforts. A steady hand clasped around his throat—aggressive, but in control.

_There it is. Just a little more._

“If I’d been getting fucked by other guys, you’d have wished you took advantage of me first.”

Miles whimpered submissively as Peter’s hand tensed up around his throat. He knew exactly what to say and do to get a rise out of Peter—knew how to push all the right buttons to get what he wanted.

“If I knew you needed to get fucked so bad, I would’ve done it myself before I let someone else have you.”

Miles bit his lip, wondering if Peter would let him take it even further. His heart was racing with excitement and nervous energy.

“What if I was only 14?”

Peter shut his eyes. “Miles, don’t...”

“What if I begged you for it?”

Peter snapped. He rolled himself on top of Miles, gaining leverage over him as he straddled the smaller boy’s hips. Miles looked into his parter’s eyes and was surprised to see not anger, but fear and guilt—the threads of jealousy unraveling.

“Start begging,” he whispered, holding Miles’ face in his hands gently. Miles wasn’t sure if it was an order or a plea anymore.

“Mmm...please babe,” he whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He could feel Peter’s erection pinned against his own. Miles was so _hard_ —needy and aching. Only Peter could make him feel this way—only he could claim Miles as his own. “Please...” he was pleading pathetically for it. “Please, Peter. I just—I need to show you that I’m yours.” He needed to prove he was committed—that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes again.

“Yeah, you’re gonna prove it...” Peter murmured against his neck. “You’re not getting this dick until you do.”

Miles moaned softly beneath him. He had something to prove.

“Undress me,” Peter instructed, rolling off of the smaller boy with ease to lay on his back.

Miles helped him out of his t-shirt, eyes lingering over the muscular expanse of his bare chest—the soft flesh of his belly. His gaze made its way down to the man’s hips peeking out from the waistband of his pants, light trail of hair just below his navel leading lower, to the curve of his cock straining against the stretchy material. He stripped him down until Peter’s cock was springing forth to slap against his belly, bobbing deliciously in search of relief.

He wanted to taste him, to worship his body, to explore every inch of him until Peter _begged_ him...

But then Peter rolled over onto his belly, depriving him of the sight—oh, but this was something even more intriguing. Smooth, muscular back dipping down to meet the round curve of his ass—smooth and mostly bare in contrast to the light layering of hair on this thighs.

“Miles...” Peter breathed out, his back rising and falling with shallow breaths. “Miles, lick me.” It wasn’t the aggressive, commanding voice from before; it was begging, urgent, desperate with need—almost a whimper. “Please.”

His heart skipped a beat at the vulnerability in Peter’s voice—just moments earlier, aggressive and now he was begging for Miles to please him. That’s what jealousy did to Peter—filled him with rage and aggression before leaving him empty with need and insecurity. Only Miles could fill that void.

The first (and only) time Peter had offered his ass up, Miles had pounded him aggressively into the bed. His cheeks felt hot just thinking about it. He’d done little more than press tentative fingers inside before replacing it with cock. He’d never explored it, teased it...tasted it.

“Come on, Miles,” Peter whispered. “Please.”

Miles positioned himself to lay between Peter’s legs as he spread them open wider. Peter lay calm and still as Miles brought his face closer, brushing lips across the smooth pale skin of his ass cheeks and kissing his way lower still. He nipped teasingly at each cheek, his nose nudging at the cleft between them.

He was shy about his own inexperience, at the unfamiliarity of such an intimate and explicit act. But he was so eager to please Peter, to prove his commitment and shed his transgressions that he was ready and willing.

With both hands, he roughly squeezed Peter’s ass cheeks and spread him apart to expose the man’s opening. Peter lay silent and still until Miles buried his face in it—lips brushing against tight pink flesh, tongue flicking out tentatively to taste him. Then he was crying out, his usual deep groans replaced with soft breathy moans and whimpers as Miles lapped at him in earnest. He was beautifully unguarded with his emotions—giving himself over to them as Miles’ tongue licked at him attentively.

Encouraged by the sounds coming out of Peter, Miles probed the tip of his tongue into his opening. It was taught and resistant, spasming and tightening so that just the very tip of his tongue explored the metallic-tasting raw flesh inside...just enough to make Peter cry out, abandoned pleasure muffled by the pillow.

Miles moved lower still, kissing the soft skin between his ass and balls—nose wet with his own spit as it nudged at Peter’s entrance—until finding Peter’s balls pressed between his body and the mattress and tasting them, sweaty and familiar.

Peter wiggled free to turn himself over on the bed—stiff cock leaking with arousal, veins on his neck pulsing, crazy hair and flushed cheeks—the most perfect thing Miles had ever seen.

“Miles,” he panted, his breaths coming in gasps through parted lips. “Miles, please.” It didn’t matter what Peter asked him—he would do it. “Come sit on my cock.”

This was new. Peter liked to be on top or behind—whatever put him in control. Peter’s eyes followed him intently as Miles stripped out of his half-unbuttoned school uniform, freeing his cock from the restricting material. Miles gasped when Peter gave his ass a loud slap as he crawled across the bed to reach for lube in the nightstand drawer.

He prepared Peter’s dick, slicking him up with lube before kneeling over him. He reached back, working some over his own entrance. He didn’t need careful preparation these days; his body was well-acclimated to accommodating Peter.

Kneeling over his partner to straddle him—knees on each side of Peter’s hips—he nudged Peter’s cock with his own. “Thought I wasn’t getting dick tonight,” Miles teased, just to get a reaction out of Peter. “Or did I already prove myself?”

“You can prove that ass is mine by riding me.”

“Yeah? And what if I won’t?”

“I’m gonna take it anyway.” The friction from their cocks sliding together as his hips rocked into Miles was pretty convincing, too.

“Guess I better start riding.”

And with that, he positioned the head of Peter’s cock at his entrance, sliding it over his hole until Peter was squirming under him.

Peter looked at him with half lidded eyes glazed over with desire. “Yeah, c’mon Miles. Let me see you take it.”

He lowered himself onto it so slowly—just the head slipping in past his tight rim. His hands were on Peter’s chest to steady himself and give him the leverage he would need. He wanted Peter watch. “Look at it, Peter. You’re so big.”

“Fuck...that looks good, Miles. I wanna see it go in.”

He took the whole length until he was sitting with ass flush against Peter’s hips. It was so deep inside, he could already feel it hitting just where he needed. “Ah shit, right there...don’t move.” Miles closed his eyes and breathed through it, tensing up around Peter’s cock.

That sent Peter into ecstasy. He grabbed Miles’ hips to steady himself while his own thrusted up into Miles in search of friction.

Miles’ lanky legs gave him the leverage to build up a rhythm—knees pressed into the mattress, sweaty palms on Peter’s chest as he bounced on Peter’s cock. Each time he lowered himself, his ass slapped against Peter’s hips. He fucked him like that until the movement became automatic, until he couldn’t stop even if he bothered to try.

Peter was unraveling—eyes closed shut tight, sweat-dampened face flushed pink, mouth open wide as he cried out again and again.

Miles wasn’t any better off—body drenched in sweat, legs shaking as he tried to keep his momentum, moaning so loud it put Peter to shame. He’d never been more grateful for his spider strength—his legs would’ve given out by now otherwise.

He knew Peter was close, and he wouldn’t be far behind if Peter’s dick kept hitting his most sensitive spot.

“Grab my dick,” he pleaded with Peter. “Can you jerk me? I wanna come with you.”

Peter’s eyes met Miles’ as a rough hand wrapped around him, stroking him urgently. “Miles, so close...stay with me, baby. Just keep—mmm...yeah _that_. Keep pounding me.” Every other word was punctuated with a loud slap against Peter’s hips that left Peter gasping, barely able to get a word out.

Peter’s practiced hand quickly brought him to the edge, with a rhythm that matched the movement of Miles’ hips each time they lifted off the bed. Miles shouted out, “I’m gonna—fuck I can’t hold it anymore! I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah! I’m coming too.”

Miles spilled all over Peter’s hand and belly. He rode the waves of his orgasm as Peter filled him until his legs gave out completely. Drained and content, he collapsed onto Peter.

They lay silent and still—just the rising and falling of their chests between them in perfect harmony.

“You look so cute getting fucked, kid,” just a whisper against his ear.

“I’m not a kid,” Miles smirked into Peter’s sweaty neck.

“And I’m not old.”

By the time Miles had thought of the perfect comeback, Peter was already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised art (I have 2 drawings completed for upcoming scenes), but this chapter is SO damn long that I couldn’t squeeze the scene in to go with it. So I guess I’ll save it for Chapter 25?
> 
> It’s bittersweet, but I think we’re coming up to the finish line here as I tie up the final loose threads. I think a few more chapters should do it, so now is a good time if anyone has any special requests (scenes, smut, art, anything else I’ve missed) that you’d like to see in the story.


	27. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For DarkFoxKirin and everyone who loves jealous Peter.

“Babe, someone’s at the door,” Miles shook his sleeping partner who was snoring face-down in the bed. It was Saturday morning, and they weren’t expecting anybody at Peter’s apartment.

“Huh?” he lifted his head off the pillow and looked around, delirious and confused. “What time is it?”

“I dunno, it’s morning. Someone’s ringing the bell—can you buzz them in?”

“Okay, yeah,” Peter rolled out of bed, frantically searching for clothes on his way to the living room. He’d only managed to pull one pant leg on by the time he pressed the button on the call box to find out who was waiting at the street below.

“Peter,” the woman’s voice was familiar, but Miles couldn’t place it. There was an uncomfortably-long pause as Peter shook his head. ”It’s Mary Jane. Can we talk?”

“Sorry, not home.”

“Please, I just want to apologize about—“

“Snitching to May because I didn’t wanna be your fake boyfriend?”

“I-I...okay, yes. Full disclosure, May asked me to come check on you. I know you’ve been going through a rough patch and I...well, I have something of yours that she asked me to bring.”

“Not gonna work.”

“Peter, if you could just let me in, I’ll drop it off and be on my way. It would mean a lot to me...and to May.”

Peter scratched his head, seemingly at odds with himself as he turned to Miles. “I’ve been wanting to give her a piece of my mind ever since she went behind my back to Aunt May about us.”

“Peter _don’t_. Just let it go.”

“Let it go? She blackmailed me! She’s lucky I didn’t do something crazy.”

He buzzed her up, to Miles’ disapproval.

“I think you should go wait in the bedroom. This could get ugly.”

“Nah, man. I’m not leaving you alone with her after last time!”

“Okay whatever, just go invisible. Stay over there,” he gestured to the corner, annoyed at the intrusion of his space, his sleep, and his privacy. “I don’t need her calling the police on me when she thinks I’m holding an _innocent_ child captive,” he rolled his eyes.

_Knock knock._

Miles did as he was told—turned invisible and watched as Peter opened the door just a sliver. “Yeah? What is it?” He didn’t bother to mask his hostility toward the woman.

Mary Jane pushed her way through, carrying a large tote bag. She looked well put-together, her hair and makeup done for the occasion.

She skipped right to the pleasantries. “Wow, this is a real upgrade from your room at May’s.”

“Thanks! Now get out,” Peter cut her off mid-sentence and held the door open, gesturing for her to leave.

“Wait! Please, let me just—“ she reached in bag, rummaging around for something. “It was right here...”

“You know what? It’s fine! Whatever it is, you can leave it with May. I’ll get it next time I’m in the neighborhood.”

She made her way over to the couch, took the liberty of sitting down as if they were old friends, and dropped her head in her hands. To both Miles and Peter’s horror, the woman started sobbing right there on his couch. Even from across the room, Miles could see Peter physically cringe, recoiling at the painfully-awkward scene.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I know what you must think of me.” She fumbled around in her bag some more, determined to find whatever it was she’d been searching for. 

“Oh, you have _no_ idea,” Peter sighed, sitting on the armchair opposite her, looking resigned. He shrugged as he looked in Miles’ direction, as if to say ‘what? don’t look at _me’._

“It’s just that...I miss him _so_ much. Some days I just can’t...well, it’s just so hard to let go.”

“You know what else is hard to let go of? A grudge. Y’know, like when someone tries to blackmail you and goes behind your back to get you in trouble?”

MJ continued as if she hadn’t heard a word Peter said. “You look just like him, you know. Older, sure—a little rougher around the edges...”

“Hey, I resent that!

“Handsome like him, too.” Was she seriously not listening to a _word_ Peter was saying?

Finally, she retrieved what she’d been looking for out of her bag, holding a small electronic device as she folded her hands in her lap. Maybe some sort of Spider-Man gadget that belonged to the other Peter?

“It’s been so lonely. Do you remember that night you took me for dinner?”

“I remember enough,” Peter sighed. “Look, you shouldn’t be here. Do you need me to call you a cab or something?”

“Are you still seeing—oh my gosh, I forgot his name. Forgive me.”

“Miles,” Peter hissed.

“Ah, sorry—that’s right. And he’s how old, again? I’m so forgetful these days.”

“Old enough to make his own decisions.”

“Of course,” she shrugged, fidgeting nervously with the device in her hands. “16, was it?”

“Almost 17,” he frowned at her. “If you’re finished reminiscing, now isn’t a good time.”

“How old are you, Peter? I always get it mixed up considering all the similarities between you and my husband. 45?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “What? _No,_ just 40.”

“That’s right,” she smiled, her earlier tears leaving no trace. She turned the device over in her hands, and Miles cautiously moved in closer to try and get a better look.

“It sounds like things are pretty serious between you both.”

“Of course it’s serious. Haven’t we been over this enough times? You really need to get going,” Peter insisted.

A little red light on the gadget was blinking. _A recording device!_

“Right,” she stood up suddenly, as if she had just been pulled out of a trance. “I’ve got what I need. I’ll leave you to it.”

In a moment of clarity, the invisible Miles reached out and snatched it from her hand.

“What the hell?” she whipped her head around to see what had happened, but Miles had already stuffed it in his pocket. It was as good as invisible.

“Excuse me?” Peter questioned.

She groaned angrily, eyes darting around the room for the invisible culprit. “Forget it, Peter!”

He shrugged, heading to the door to see her out. “It’s been...something.”

“Don’t play games with me,” she hissed. “I know he’s in here. Tell him he can keep it. And for the record,” she was raising her voice now, every few words squeaking as she berated him, “we would’ve been good together. You could’ve had me, Peter. But instead you chose a _child_. I hope you wake up someday and figure out where you went wrong.”

And with that, she turned to leave.

Miles reappeared, holding the device in his hand. He tossed it to Peter, who caught it with a puzzled look on his face.

“What’s this?” Peter asked.

“Me saving your ass. It’s a recording device.”

“Son of a—“

“She played you good.”

“I can’t _believe_ I didn’t see that coming.”

“Dude, that’s Spider-Man lesson number one: don’t watch the mouth— _watch the hands._ ”

* * *

Miles spent the day shopping with his mom before meeting Peter back at his school dorm around five o’clock so he could finish a science project due on Monday. Peter was playing a Spider-Man video game from Ganke’s bed while Miles sketched out a diagram of neurotransmitters at his desk. Lost in thought, he was snapped out of his musings when Peter’s stomach rumbled from across the room.

“Woah, are you ever _not_ hungry, man?”

Peter shrugged, pausing his game, “when I’m sleeping. Should we pick up dinner?”

“Nah, I’ll just bring something up from the cafeteria. Still gotta do this chart and finish the research paper.”

Peter turned back to his game. “Take my wallet—it’s on your dresser.” It still made Miles’ heart flutter how Peter took care of him. Even though Miles had his own money, Peter never let him pay for anything. It was important to him to be the provider, and he took pride in caring for his younger partner. Miles had learned a long time ago not to deny him that satisfaction.

The school cafeteria was a food court where students would eat all their meals—usually paid for with credit from their parents on a pre-loaded card. Even on a Saturday evening, it was packed with kids. While a lot of students went home on the weekends, many were from out-of-state and lived at the school for the entire semester. Miles picked up enough sandwiches for two hungry Spider-Men and waited in line to pay.

As he shuffled his tray along, his Spider-Sense slowly started to tingle—just a dull nagging in his head, like a fly buzzing around his ear. _Huh_. Looking up through a sea of forgettable faces, his gaze narrowed in on a table not far from where he stood.

A boy with dreads in messy a top knot, glasses, and a not-so-forgettable face sat with headphones on, tapping his foot and bobbing his head. _Fuck, not you again_.

It was fine, Jimmy didn’t even see him. _Just keep walking, look away._ Miles got to the register and paid with Peter’s money before making his way to the exit. He wasn’t sure why it happened—an involuntary reflex, or maybe he just liked to make himself suffer—but as he came upon Jimmy’s table, he stopped dead in his tracks. _Keep moving, Miles!_ Jimmy with his stupid sexy face and his absurdly big dick and his annoyingly kissable lips thinking he _owned the goddamn place._

He looked at Miles, something like sadness in his eyes, intense and longing. By the time Miles remembered how to walk, how to look away—his stomach was twisting in knots as his feet carried him to the door. He didn’t stop until he made it back to his room.

He lay on the top bunk watching Peter eat. He’d lost his appetite, feeling nothing but a dull burning in the pit of his stomach.

“You’re not gonna eat, Miles?”

“Maybe in a little while. I uh...I don’t feel so good.”

_Knock knock_

Miles heart sank. He knew who it was—it _had_ to be. He must have followed him back up.

“Don’t get that!” Miles whispered frantically to Peter, who was eating at the desk. “It might be school security. They can’t know you’re here.” 

Peter gave him a suspicious look. Miles always _was_ a bad liar.

“Hey Miles?” Another knock. _Fuck. This_ wasn’t _happening._ “It’s Jimmy.”

Miles sat upright in his bed. His heart could have beat right out of his chest. The _look_ —God, the look on Peter’s face could have broken Miles’ heart in two. Confusion, realization, rage—so many emotions flashed across his face, but mostly there was pain.

“Peter, please,” Miles pleaded pathetically, as if anything he said could even stop him. 

Peter stood wordlessly from the desk, pointing at Miles to stay back—as if he would’ve dared to move.

“I’ll handle it.”

“Just let it go, Peter!”

Peter _snapped_ , raw pain in his eyes as he screamed out, “I _said_ I’ll handle it!” His chilling words cut through Miles, shaking him to his core.

He opened the door. Miles was grateful he couldn’t see the look on the man’s face as he dragged Jimmy in by the front of his shirt, closing the door and slamming the boy up against it without warning.

“You got something to say to Miles? Say it to me,” Peter growled. The moment was intense, charged with anger, awkwardly tense.

“Yo chill! The _fuck_ you doing? Is this your boyfriend, Miles?” Jimmy smirked as he looked the older man over.

“You don’t talk to him!” Peter released his grip as if to give him one final chance to turn around and leave. Jimmy didn’t take it.

“When I saw you the outside the other day, I was like _shit—_ Miles got an older man? I ain’t think you was gonna be his grandpa.” He fixed Peter with a cocky grin as he addressed Miles, who was frozen in fear where he sat. “Can he still get it up for you, Miles?”

Peter grabbed Jimmy by the front of his shirt and threw him against the door again. He’d already missed his chance to walk away. “Peter, stop!” Miles shouted through the chaos.

“This who you picked over me?” Jimmy barely acknowledged Peter, which only fueled his rage. “An old man who think he got somethin’ to prove? That busted ass nose look like he lost a fight to the last dude you fucked around with.”

Peter shook his head, his voice low and steady. “Oh you’re gonna wish you didn’t say that.” His balled-up hands at his sides were clenched tight. Miles could tell he was holding back.

“Yeah, or _what_ , old man? You just mad cuz he wanna be with me. Shoulda seen how he was sweatin’ me. Had your boy drooling over my dick.”

Peter brought a hand to the teen’s throat, pinning him against the door roughly. He leaned in close, barely loud enough for Miles to hear. “Yeah? Well Miles loves this old man. He comes home to _me_. _You’re not man enough for him_.”

Jimmy didn’t miss a beat, even from his current disadvantage. “You say somethin’ pops? How’d I taste on your boys mouth? Next time I’ll make sure he taste like my dick. Bet you like that.”

It happened faster than Miles could process. With his free hand, Peter pulled his arm back and punched Jimmy square in the nose with an audible crack. He groaned as blood trickled down his lip, eyes fluttering shut when his head hit the door. “How’s that for a busted ass nose?” Peter spat out.

Miles knew that was only a fraction of his strength; he was showing restraint, taking mercy on him—or at least making sure he didn’t actually kill the kid. He finally came to his senses and climbed down from the top bunk, grabbing Peter by the arm and pulling him back. “Cut it out, man! Just let him go. He’s not even worth it!”

Jimmy wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand, grinning smugly at Miles. “It’s cool, you’ll be back. You got my number when you done fuckin’ with pops over here—if you think you can handle all this dick. You said I’m bigger, yeah?”

Miles finally found it in himself to face Jimmy, to put him in his place.

“Look, I don’t _want_ you, man. Whatever you think this is—it’s _not._ I choose Peter, and I’m always gonna choose him. You gotta go, Jimmy. You gotta let go—this is who I love. You’re not gonna change that.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Yeah...aight.” He turned to open the door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob to look back at Miles. “But hey, man. Straight up, you can do better—you gotta know that. He’s too old for you. I really liked you, Miles.”

Jimmy turned to leave.

“Hey Jimmy?” Peter called after him. “That’s gonna be broken—you’ll wanna get that checked out, or you’ll end up looking like me,” he smirked, satisfied with himself.

“Bye Miles,” Jimmy closed the door closed softly behind him.

Peter stood panting, chest heaving with each breath as he came down from the rush of adrenaline. His eyes burned intense against his smug grin, but something else flickered just beneath the surface. _Longing._

“You chose me,” his voice was distant, like he was in a daze. _Why did he sound so surprised?_

Miles took a hesitant step closer. “Of course I chose you, Peter. How could you even—“

“You chose me,” he repeated, as if trying to process it, convince himself it was real. “I know I’m not—I know he’s...he’s better than me. I’m not blind, Miles. I already know. I just—“

“Peter, _stop_ thinking that way,” Miles closed the space between them. He pressed his body against Peter’s wrapping his arms around the man’s waist and holding him tight as if to keep him there. He needed him to _feel_ that he meant it. “I choose you because I _love_ you. Because I _want_ you.” Peter was tense in his arms, and Miles was afraid he’d pull away. He squeezed him tighter. “How could anyone be better for me than that?”

Peter wrapped his arms around Miles like he was afraid to let go—the two Spider-Men tethering each other to reality. “I mean, look at me, Miles. He’s hotter, cooler... _younger_ than me. I bet he’s really popular. Me? I’m just...” he shrugged, “I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re Spider-Man,” Miles pulled back just enough to look at Peter’s face with conviction. “Okay, yeah...he’s younger than you. Maybe cooler, I guess. You know what? I don’t _care_ about those things, Peter.”

“What about hotter? You skipped over that one.”

“Do you not realize how _sexy_ you are to me, man?” Miles sounded exasperated.

“Tell me.”

“ _You’re_ hotter, Peter...with your busted ass nose,” he teased.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I got this busted nose from defeating Venom... _twice_!”

“I love your crooked nose,” he looked into Peter’s eyes, hoping he could somehow convey the meaning behind his words, “and your scarred-up face, and all the little lines around your eyes, and your gray hairs, and—“

“Woah, could you at least _try_ to make me sound a little bit appealing? I’m not _that_ bad, am I?”

“Those are the things I love about you, Peter.”

Peter leaned in to find Miles’ lips, kissing him so gently, lingering long enough to elicit a soft moan from his partner. “What else?” he whispered against the boy’s mouth.

Miles pressed their foreheads together, eyes fluttering shut as Peter’s gaze became too intense for him to hold. “It’s sexy how you’re always in-control and make me feel safe. How you take care of me.”  
  
Peter’s breath was ragged as he clung a little tighter to Miles. “What else?”

“Um...your body. It’s so strong and powerful, and your big hands. How they fit around me...” Miles was so _hard_ , he wondered if Peter could feel it against his hip. 

“What about this?” Peter took Miles’ hand from where it was grabbing his waist, and slid it over the front of his sweatpants to rest on his cock, standing at attention against the tented fabric.

Miles nodded, a whimper escaping his lips—all he could manage as he buried his face in Peter’s neck.

“Am I bigger than him?” he could feel Peter throbbing in his hand.

“I-I don’t know,” Miles whispered against his neck.

“He asked you to touch him,” Peter’s voice was a low, growled whisper. “I know he showed it to you.” Miles shook his head, but Peter _knew_. “He’s bigger.”

Miles didn’t have to answer; his silence said more than words.

Peter was so hard in Miles’ hand. He was getting off on his own jealousy and rage, his dick straining to be free from the constraints of the material.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been as turned on as when you punched Jimmy in the face.”

“Then why’d you stop me?”

“I thought you were going to kill him.”

“So did I...”

The moment was so charged, Miles could almost feel it. They kissed, Peter’s tongue pushing its way into Miles’ mouth, urgently tasting him. He felt dizzy with nerves and excitement.

“We should lay down,” Miles’ panted, breaking the kiss. His knees were going to give out if Peter kept grinding his hips into him, groaning into his mouth.

On Miles’ bed, Peter took his time—did all the right things, said the right words to reassure Miles, to let him know they were going to be okay.

“Tell me I’m yours,” Peter whispered against his lips.

“You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“You know if Jimmy shows his face around here again, we’re gonna be mopping his blood off the floor, right?”

“You don’t think he learned his lesson?”

Peter shrugged. “I learned mine.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“That if I don’t treat you right, the next guy is already waiting in line.” Peter leaned over Miles, kissing his forehead. “I’m gonna do better, Miles—take better care of you, provide for you, spoil you...”

“Spoil me?” Miles laughed.

“I’m serious,” Peter frowned. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna take you out somewhere nice.”

“Like a date?” They’d never been on a real date before. The transition from friends to lovers had been so complicated, they’d never done any of the romantic things new couples do.

“Yeah,” Peter scratched his chin, thinking, “a date. Have we done one of those before?”

Miles shook his head.

“Things are going to be different, Miles. I mean it—starting right now. You’re gonna lay here and let me take care of you tonight. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“You think after I saw you break Jimmy’s nose, I’m gonna get on your bad side?”

“Stop saying his name,” Peter frowned. “Now be a good boy for me and lay back—just relax. Let daddy take care of you.”

All Miles could do was lay back and do as he was told, eager to prove he would give himself over to Peter completely, whatever he asked of him.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, for starters.” Peter moved down the bed to kneel between Miles’ legs, carefully stripping him bare. He looked the boy over with half-lidded eyes, mouth hanging slack—in awe of the body splayed out for him in offering.

Miles’ cock bobbed eagerly against his belly, and he saw the look of _need_ that flashed across his partner’s face as he took in the sight of Miles. The man was ready to pounce him, but he knew Peter wouldn’t give in to his urges; he was carefully controlling their pace with determined focus as he resolved to pleasure Miles.

“Turn over for me, sweetheart. Lay on your belly and spread your legs open.”

Miles hesitantly complied, blushing at the cute endearment as he flipped over to lay on his belly and assume the vulnerable position. He laid himself bare—dick pressed painfully into the mattress, embarrassed and exposed under Peter’s gaze, wiggling nervously on the bed. “Peter, I don’t—“

“Shhh,” Peter silenced him with a gentle hand on his ass, rubbing soothing circles over soft skin. “Stay just like that for me, baby. That looks perfect.” Miles lay with flushed face pressed into the pillow as Peter positioned himself to lay between the boy’s legs. His face was so close, Miles could feel warm breath on his bare skin. “I’m gonna eat you up.”

 _Please..._ He was hopelessly desperate to feel Peter’s tongue on him. _Please, please, please._

Peter nuzzled his face against the soft flesh of Miles’ ass—stubbled jaw prickling over each cheek, lips kissing and teasing at the sensitive skin, nose tracing down the cleft until it nudged his balls beneath.

_If Peter would just..._

“Mm, yeah!” Peter’s tongue flicked out to taste his balls and trailed upward, jolting him with pleasure before stopping short of actually licking his entrance.

“You’re such a good boy,” Peter’s breath against Miles’ wet balls gave him chills, and he was itching for more. If Peter would just lick him—if he could just feel his tongue pressing inside of him... Peter kissed at his balls teasingly.

“Mmm, c’mon man,” Miles panted, his hips raising off the bed in search of more. The slow torture was beautifully agonizing as he wiggled on the bed.

“I wanna taste you inside,” Peter spread Miles’s ass open with his hands, burying his face in it.

His eyes rolled back, fluttering shut when Peter’s tongue found its way to his opening.

They’d done this twice before, but neither helped lessen the feeling of vulnerability and humiliation at having his partner’s face buried in his ass, licking him up like he was the best thing Peter’s tongue had tasted all day. He squirmed and shuddered as Peter lapped at him gently, licking soothingly slow until it pacified him, stilled his writhing hips, lulled him to a trance where the only sensation his body could process was Peter’s tongue on his exposed flesh.

Miles hummed his approval into the pillow, drool pooling around his mouth as he lost himself to the feeling.

Slow and gentle licks melted away all the guilt and shame he’d been holding on to from his mistakes. As if Peter’s lips kissing and sucking softly at his rim could somehow make everything right again, make him feel worthy of Peter’s love. If Peter could want all of him in that moment, eager tongue pressing beyond his entrance to taste him—then maybe he was worth having. The feeling was so intensely intimate that he cried out—tears threatening to spill over as the tip of Peter’s tongue probed him mercilessly. 

And then, without warning, he withdrew—leaving Miles feeling empty and wanting, pleading for more. _God, please more._

But then Peter was cradling him in his arms, rolling him over to hold him so gently like he would break if it weren’t for Peter’s protective embrace. Lubed fingers filled him up again, like scratching an itch he couldn’t reach. Peter kissed his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids...all over his face, making him feel safe and loved while his fingers slid in and out to choked gasps.

Peter clung to him lovingly as he slid his cock deep into Miles’ body, slow and sensual. That someone so _powerful_ , who just earlier was so full of rage and hate, could make him feel so protected and nurtured and loved, was beyond comprehension. He filled Miles up completely—his body, his heart, his soul.

Miles cried out as Peter gently thrusted into him—it was too slow, too intense. “Ahh! Please, Peter...more. C’mon, please...” He wanted Peter to pound him, to tear into him with the same force he used to break Jimmy’s nose.

“Shhh,” Peter soothed, cupping Miles’ face in his hands, going painfully-slower still. “Nice and slow. Look at me...look in my eyes. Does it feel good?”

Miles nodded as he held Peter’s gaze.

“Is my cock big enough for you?”

“Mmm,” Miles whimpered. “It feels really big. You fill me up so good.”

“Good boy.” Peter slowly pumped at him until Miles was clawing at the bed, crying out with tears in his eyes. “Shhh, I’ve got you.” He clung to Miles’ smaller frame, hips driving into him rhythmic and slow until it felt like time would just _stop_. And then, Peter’s hips _were_ stopping, coming to a torturous halt with one final push. Peter looked him in the eyes, brow furrowed intensely. “I’m coming,” he choked out. “Do you feel it?”

“Oh shit... _yes_.” He did feel it, Peter filling him up so perfectly, body pinning him to the bed as they cried out together softly.

Still inside of Miles, Peter collapsed on him with all his weight, practically purring in his ear in quiet satisfaction. They lay still, save for the rise and fall of their chests pressed together, until Peter broke the silence first.

“Where do you want me to take you for our date tomorrow?”

“After today? Someplace where nobody knows us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An informal poll:
> 
> Should I...  
> [ ] Do a final chapter to wrap this up and start working on my next MM/PBP fic?  
> [ ] Keep going?


	28. Chapter 25 Artwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never asked myself if I _should,_ only if I _could._
> 
>  **Why did I do this?** I don’t know, I’m sorry. I like porn.  
>  **Why is Peter wearing his Spider-Suit?** Because reasons. I’m not really a good artist, so I thought nobody could tell who they’re supposed to be outside the context of this fic, otherwise. And if I’m being honest, I am _so_ attracted to Peter in his Spider-Suit, so there’s that.  
>  **Is this legal?** Miles is as old as he needs to be for this to be perfectly legal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know where I can host stuff like this at a higher resolution? Imgur really did a number on this.


	29. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pure self indulgence to help me through some stuff I’m dealing with right now. I wrote this in one sitting—it just needed to come out of me, I guess. If anyone else happens to like it, then that’s just a nice bonus.
> 
> Dated passages are flashbacks.

“You look so beautiful,” Peter sipped at his drink—a full glass of red wine. “Just like that night. I wish I would’ve kissed you, then.” Miles had never seen him drink before—then again, they’d never been on a real date until now.

Peter was perhaps more romantic than Miles had given him credit for thus far. He’d splurged on a cab to their destination: the piers along the Hudson where they’d patrolled one night last summer—according to Peter, the first time he’d wanted to kiss Miles. He’d booked a dinner cruise on the same ferry where they’d sat and talked all night that first time Peter had realized he’d fallen for the boy in a more physical way.

The two had dressed up in the nicest clothes they owned (which for Peter was a black t-shirt and his cleanest jeans) for the occasion. Peter had reserved a private table; it was just big enough for two, and partitioned-off from the rest of the dining room. That luxury was enough to afford them the privacy to feel like a normal couple for one night as they held hands and gazed at each other from across the table without garnering suspicion from onlookers.

Peter’s hand trembled as he set his drink down on the linen-covered table, nearly spilling it over.

“Does drinking do that to you?” Miles observed, never having touched alcohol himself.

“I’m drinking to try _not_ to do that,” Peter smirked. He took Miles’ hand in his from across the table, stroking it with his thumb. It was sweaty, and maybe that was from the wine too, but Miles thought he seemed nervous.

Miles was about to ask why, when the server came to take their order. Peter squeezed his hand tighter as if to say _‘_ _don’t let go’_ , sensing that Miles might pull away. It felt so exhilarating for others see them like that—to just be together as they were, without the fear of someone they know catching them off guard.

“Can you bring more bread for my partner, please?” Peter called after the server as he left to put their order in.

“Partner?” Miles cocked his eyebrow curiously.

“I mean we’re a team, right?” he did a web shooting gesture with his free hand, earning a chuckle. “Listen Miles,” he lowered his voice, “I’ve said this once before, but I don’t want to call you my boyfriend. It’s just...it’s not enough. You’re my life partner, my other half. And I—“

“Okay, here we go!” the server brought out another basket of bread and refilled their waters while they waited awkwardly, hands clasped on the table.

By the time they were alone again, Peter changed the subject.

“Have you heard from your dad?” He hadn’t. Ever since the falling out they’d had over Miles’ coming out, he hadn’t heard from him at all.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Hmm,” Peter shrugged. “Your mom?”

He shook his head. The tension in the air was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. They never usually had a shortage of things to talk about or reminisce on—it felt like Peter was holding something back. They talked instead about school, a video game they’d been playing, Peter’s rude neighbor. It felt like they were dancing around something much heavier.

Miles finally broke the ice. “Do you think Mary Jane is planning her next move? She seemed pretty upset yesterday.”

“She can choke on my dick,” Peter frowned. “ _N_ _ot_ literally.”

“You know, I was a little jealous...” Miles frowned at him across the table. “All this time, knowing you’d brought her on a date when we’d never even had one yet.”

“Shit, Miles,” Peter bit his lip, looking guilty. “You’re right, I should’ve already—“ he trailed off, shaking his head. “God, I’m so _stupid_. I didn’t even think about how that must have felt.” He leaned across the table, bringing Miles’ hand to hips lips and kissing it softly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve done this for you a long time ago.”

“Um, can I ask you something? Don’t get mad though...”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I just...I’ve been thinking a lot, and I was wondering. I know Mary Jane is really into you, and you like women, so...” he looked down at his hands, stumbling over his insecurities. “Do you think I’ll be enough for you? Like if we stay together...forever.”

“Look at me, Miles,” he squeezed tighter on Miles’ hand as the boy looked up into his eyes. It was hard to hold his gaze, and Miles worried he might cry if he wasn’t careful. “You are the love of my _life_. There’s nobody else, Miles. I don’t want women—I want _you_...just you. Nobody else could ever be enough.”

“I-I just mean, like...” he sighed lowering his voice to nearly a whisper, “sexually.”

“Oh...” Peter pondered over it for a while in gut-wrenching silence, the gears in his head spinning as he thought it over.

“Here we are!” The server returned with plates of food, oblivious to the charged moment he’d interrupted as he rearranged their table to make room. Peter released Miles’ hand to make space for the food, and the loss felt almost painful. “Everything look okay? Can I get you anything else?”

“This is perfect, thank you,” Peter’s eyes never left Miles’. The boy’s heart was beating out of his chest as he waited for an answer when finally, the server took his leave.

“Miles...” Peter began. If Miles’ eyes would just stop _leaking_ and he could stop being so damn _sensitive_ , they could talk about it like two mature adults. Except that Miles _wasn’t_ an adult, and his trembling lip was making it embarrassingly obvious. “Baby, please. Look at me, it’s okay.”

Miles shook his head, closing his eyes to stop the burning of tears.

“I need you to listen to me,” Peter continued, his voice calm and steady. “I get why you’re asking, but believe it or not, I’m well aware that I’m choosing to spend my life with a man—a boy...a-a _guy_. God, that throws me off.” Miles wiped his tears on the back of his hand, daring to look up and steal a glance at Peter. “That’s not a sacrifice, Miles. There’s nothing a woman can do for me that you can’t. I’m choosing you with the understanding that I’m never going to be with a woman again, and I’m happy with that decision.”

Miles nodded meekly, sniffling.

“And you know what? It turns out I like dick a hell of a lot more than I like—“

“How are we doing over here?” The server asked cheerfully, reappearing to refill their waters. Peter’s face was pure exasperation.

“We’re fine! Can we have a moment here?” he snapped. Miles covered his face in embarrassment, feeling his ears turn hot. The server apologized and ducked away again.

“What I’m _trying_ to say is...” Peter sighed, “you are enough, Miles. When we have sex, I feel so connected to you. I’ve never felt as good as when I’m with you. You’re the best I’ve ever had, and I’m not going back Miles.”

“So you like dick,” Miles smirked, drying his eyes and wiping his nose on his napkin. 

“Can I tell you something?”

Miles nodded, cheeks flushing at the turn their discussion had taken.

“It was so... _easy_ to fall in love with you. But when I realized I wanted you, I mean... _sexually_ , it was hard for me, Miles—to accept that I was thinking about you that way, imagining all the things I wanted to do to you. It wasn’t so much the _guy_ part, but the the age thing. It didn’t take me that long to figure out I was bi. But god, it was hard to understand why I was feeling those things for a-a...”

“Don’t say kid.”

“A teenager. But now that I do, I just...it feels good to be with you. It feels right. I try not to think about that part. I’m really proud of us, Miles. To call you mine, for people to see us together. And as far as being with a guy sexually, it feels perfect.”

“I’m proud of us, too. I guess I just thought that even though you _l_ _ove_ me, maybe the sex stuff was more to make me happy. I was worried you would...I dunno, want sex with a woman again one day.” He looked down at his hands, fingers tapping nervously on his lap.

“Wow. How could you even say that, Miles?” Peter looked surprised. “Nothing could be further from the truth, and it’s my fault that I haven’t made sure you know that by now. What I feel for you isn’t just about caring for you emotionally; I’m _insanely_ attracted to you, Miles—physically and sexually. Your body, your—” He took a large swig of his wine, draining the glass empty before setting it back down on the table. “Do you know what I think about when I’m alone and I’m horny?”

“Excuse me sir, may I clear your plates?” A younger woman approached the table, unable to meet either of their gaze.

“Damnit!” Peter muttered under his breath. “Yeah, go ahead. If you find our server, can I get another glass of wine, please? Uh, better just bring the whole bottle, actually.

“Thanks,” Miles mumbled, cheeks a dark hue of red as the woman took their plates and hurriedly left. If the situation hadn’t been so embarrassing, he might have busted out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“I think about _you_...not women. I don’t even—yeah, that’s not even something I think about anymore, Miles.”

“I um, I think about you too, Peter.”

“I’ve gotta say, I’m a little hurt. I thought I was giving it to you good enough to show that I’m really into it, that I love your body. Am I not...I dunno, passionate enough?”

“It’s good!” Miles smirked, shaking his head. “I just think too much, I guess. Worrying about nothing.”

Peter lowered his voice, leaning in closer to Miles across the table. “What’s good? Can I hear you say it?”

Miles cheeks felt hot as he looked around for any lurking waitstaff. He leaned in too, close enough that he could drop his voice to a low whisper. “You fuck me so good, Peter.”

They leaned in closer, Miles standing up out of his chair just enough to reach, and kissed across the table. Peter’s lips lingered, and as he slipped Miles his tongue—

“Your wine, sir.”

Peter didn’t even bother to acknowledge the server this time—just kissed Miles deeply, tongue tasting of red wine that Miles could smell on his breath, cupping the boy’s face in his hand. By the time they pulled away, the server had already left the bottle of wine and gone.

“I thought booking a private table would come with a little more privacy,” Peter frowned, pouring himself another glass. “Oh, and drinking is bad, Miles,” he raised his glass to his lips, taking another large sip. “I know I’m a bad influence. Do as I say, not as I do, something something.”

Miles shook his head, laughing. “Why _are_ you drinking so much tonight? Nervous about our first date?” he teased.

Peter shrugged and a silence fell over them. He downed the last of his wine and closed his eyes, as if to compose himself.

“Miles,” he reached both hands out in search of his, and the two Spider-Men held hands on the table. Peter’s were sweaty. “You know I’ve loved you for a long time now, right? And I think...you’ve loved me too.”

Miles nodded, listening intently. An emotional speech was rare coming from Peter these days.

Peter continued, “I know we’ve only been together for a short time, but I’ve known it since I first met you and it feels like a lifetime that I’ve loved you now. _Please_ stop me if I’m making a fool out of myself, here.” His hands were fidgeting in Miles’ grasp—must have been all the wine. “I just want you to know that you’re the best thing in my life, and I...I know I’m not perfect, but I’ll keep trying every day to be good enough for you. When I say you’re my life partner, I really mean it.” Miles wondered if it was the wine; Peter never talked this much.

“Those aren’t just words, Miles,” Peter continued. “I want to prove it to you—that I’m committed to that promise. I know you’re only 16, and we’ve only been together for a few months, and your dad doesn’t know about us, and this is only our first date, and...okay, now that I’m saying all of this out loud, it’s starting to feel like I’m overstepping a lot of boundaries here, but...”

Peter let go of Miles’ hand and removed them from the table. Moments later, they returned holding something...a small box. Miles’ head was pounding with realization as he tried to stay focused on Peter’s words, take them in so he could hold on to that moment forever.

“I want to give this to you.”

He opened the box, and inside was a ring. Not just a ring—it was a band with tiny jewels around it: on one side, red and blue...on the other; black and red. Like their Spider-Suit colors.

Miles bit his lip to keep it from trembling, overwhelmed by the love he felt for Peter in that moment. He wasn’t sure what the gesture meant—was it a question or a promise? Either way, it meant Peter was committing himself to Miles, and in that moment that was more than enough.

“You know what, don’t answer now, actually. Just hold onto the ring and—“

“Answer?” Miles was confused, hopeful, nervous. “Wait, are you—“

“I want you to marry me, Miles,” his brow furrowed deeply. “When you’re 18, of course.”

Miles’ heart was pounding so _loud_ that his brain was taking way too long to catch up. _Marry him. Did he just—?_

“Wait, are you proposing to me? On our first date...”

“Yes? I mean maybe, I don’t know. I guess it’s whatever you want it to be, and if I’m moving too fast, then I’ll slow down, I just—“

“Yes!” Miles choked out. “I want to, Peter.”

“You want to...slow down?”

“No, I want to marry you!”

“You...you _do_?”

“Yeah, man!”

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t mean it. If you need more time, I—“

“My answer is yes, Peter. Will you kiss me already?”

Peter looked on in shock as he processed the information. When he finally registered it, he stood up and went to Miles, pulling him up out of his chair into a tight embrace.

Miles clung to him desperately, buried his face in Peter’s neck, taking in his scent and the feeling of their bodies pressed together as Peter’s hands found their way to his hair—never wanting to forget that moment.

Peter pulled back just enough to look at him, kiss his face, lift his chin up with his hand to bring their lips together. He kissed Miles, tentatively soft at first before their tongues met—Peter groaning into his mouth, kissing him with passionate hunger. Miles was more than eager to reciprocate, hands finding their way to Peter’s belly and feeling him up his shirt.

Peter pulled back, looking around. “I’m surprised they didn’t take this opportunity to refill our waters,” he joked, kissing Miles on the forehead.

Miles laughed, shaking his head.

“I’ve never been so nervous in my life. I don’t usually propose on the first date,” he teased.

“I guess the wine worked.”

“God, I love you,” Peter murmured into his hair. “I know you’re still so young, Miles, and we still have lots of time ‘til you’re ready, but...I couldn’t wait any longer to ask you. I’ve been holding on to this ring for a little while now, and when I met Jimmy—“

Miles groaned, “can we go just _one_ day without saying his name?”

“I’m serious, Miles. I’ve gotta say—Jimmy did me a big favor yesterday.”

Miles frowned at him.

“He showed me that you can do so much better than me. I can’t afford to mess this up. I just want to get everything right, and I thought...it’s time for me to prove that I’m the one for you. I don’t ever want to give you a reason to doubt that again.”

“Can I put it on?”

“Put what—oh, right.” Peter picked up the ring from where he’d left it on the table, and with a shaky hand he slipped it onto Miles’ ring finger. “The colors are—“

“Our Spider-Man colors,” Miles beamed.

“Yeah...do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

* * *

Peter dropped Miles off at his dorm later that night, and when he got up to the room and turned the light on, there was a tapping at his window.

He smiled to himself as he opened it and saw Peter sticking to the wall outside.

“What if I were a serial killer? You just open the window to anyone who comes knocking in the middle of the night?”

“I saw your face, smartass,” Miles teased.

“Oh. Can I get one more kiss goodnight?”

Miles obliged, leaning through the open window to kiss his partner, reveling in how much more perfect everything felt with Peter’s ring on his finger.

“How do I know you’re _not_ a serial killer, though?” Miles smirked.

“That’d be a pretty elaborate plan, don’t you think? Pretend to be Spider-Man from an alternate dimension to win over underage teen Spider-man. Then spend almost two and a half years making him fall in love with me, risk getting caught by his police officer dad having sex, ask him to marry me, and when he finally says yes...I romantically sneak up to his window for a goodnight kiss and then—“

The door slammed shut behind Miles, making both Spider-Men jump.

“Hey Peter,” Ganke beamed, excited for a rare chance to see him. “Oh, hey Miles—didn’t see you there. Peter, are you staying?”

“Oh, I was just leaving,” Peter answered.

“Bummer,” Ganke looked back and forth between the two of them before grinning, “you guys made up.”

“I should be going—just wanted to make sure you made it safely back.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like someone’s gonna be waiting for me outside my door or something...” Miles trailed off, remembering their run-in with Jimmy the night before. “Oh.”

“Yeah...call me if you need anything, sweetheart. I love you,” he leaned through the window to kiss Miles one last time as Ganke gawked at them awkwardly. “I think our first date went pretty well—maybe I’ll call you sometime,” he teased, and disappeared into the night.

Miles closed the window as Ganke stared at him with his mouth wide open.

“Is that a—“

Miles held his hand out for his friend to see, and Ganke grabbed it to get a closer look.

“Did you—“

Miles nodded eagerly.

“What, are you _crazy_ Miles?”

Miles retracted his hand, annoyed. “I thought you’d be happy for me, man!”

“I _am_ happy! This is the best news I’ve heard since like forever. But _damn_ , Miles—what were you thinking?!”

“That I’m gonna marry Peter—what does it _look_ like?” Miles rolled his eyes.

“You can’t get married at 16, they’re gonna arrest him!”

“Dude, we’re not getting married tomorrow. Next year I’m gonna be legal, and—“

“But you’ve only been together for like four months!”

“Uh, technically two months...it’s complicated.” Sensing Ganke’s disapproval, he quickly added, “It’s not like I just met him on a blind date and he proposed to me! I’ve spent the last 2 and a half years obsessed with this guy, you have no idea!”

Ganke’s expression softened.

“Even before I had a crush on him...I’ve always loved him. I wanted to be just like him, wanted him to be proud of me, for him to spend all his time with me. He taught me how to be Spider-Man, helped me through losing my uncle Aaron, literally left behind his whole world to be here with me—and I’m gonna marry him, okay?” He didn’t realize he had been raising his voice until he stopped talking, the abrupt silence uncomfortably apparent.

Ganke sat down on his bed, hitting his head on the top bunk, “ow!” He rubbed at the back of his head, “will you invite me to the wedding?” He looked up at Miles with pleading eyes.

“Yeah okay,” he smirked, earning himself a fist bump from Ganke.

* * *

Miles lay awake, too restless with excitement to sleep. He must have replayed the scene at the restaurant in his head a thousand times, thumb idly grazing his ring as he remembered Peter’s words.

Two months together wasn’t a long time, but two and a half years of loving someone felt like a lifetime at 16. He wasn’t exactly sure when he started having feelings for Peter, but it was long before he ever actually admitted it to himself. He thought back to their earlier days, recalling some of their first memories together.

He really _had_ loved Peter long before he even knew what it meant to be in love. He thought back on all the times he could remember that they had confessed their love for one another. If he had known then what he knew now, he would have inserted himself in those memories and done things differently. It was so obvious now that Peter was in love with him all along.

  
~April 8, 2019~

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Miles.”

“I know it’s you, I was waiting to hear your voice all day.”

“Sorry to bother you, but I can’t sleep. I’ve been having nightmares again...about my uncle.”

“You’re not bothering me, Miles. I told you to call me whenever this happens, didn’t I?”

“It just...it happens a lot now. Like every night and—“

“Shhh, it’s okay. Don’t cry buddy, I’ve got you. Just...listen to my voice, okay? Take a deep breath. Good, another one. There you go, again. How does that feel?”

“It hurts...to breathe. Everything hurts.”

“I know, I know...just stay with me. We’re gonna get through it, okay? Just stay with me and I’ll help you sleep. I’ve been looking up some stuff to see if it helps. I need you to tell me five things you can see.”

“Uh...my basketball poster. My pillow. The window. My blanket. My wall. I don’t think this is helping.”

“Okay it sounds like you’re in bed, that’s good. Don’t get up, just lay down and I’m gonna get you to sleep, okay? Tell me four things you can touch.”

“I mean, it’s like the same things. My blanket, my pillow, the wall. Uh, I’m wearing that shirt you left here.”

“You’re doing great Miles, tell me three things you can hear.”

“Your voice. Just your voice, I can’t—“

“Just listen harder, there’s gotta be something else.”

“Okay yeah, the cars outside, and uh...Ganke snoring.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“Your shirt—it smells like you. I didn’t get to wash it yet. My pillow smells like you too. It’s the one I gave you when you were playing Xbox on the floor earlier.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, it makes me feel less alone.”

“One thing you can taste.”

“I can’t taste anything.”

“Then just taste something. You have to at least give it a try.”

“I tasted my pillow...nah, just kidding.”

“See, I made you laugh—it’s working. How do you feel now?”

“A lot calmer. Will you stay a little longer? I feel so lonely.”

“I’m not going to leave you. You’re not alone, Miles.”

“I know.”

“I-I love you. Is it okay if I say that?”

“Mmm, it’s nice.”

“I know I’m not your uncle Aaron, but...I’m trying to be what you need me to be.”

“I love you too, y’know.”

“I know.”  
  


~August 21, 2019~

“Hey Peter. Listen, about earlier—“

“Don’t worry about it, Miles. You know I love you, right?”

“I love you more.”

“Say that again.”

“Huh? Oh, I said I love you more. Can you turn the movie up?”

“Yeah. Hey Miles?”

“You talk too much, man. This is the part I was telling you about.”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“Oh, uh...everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just...kinda lonely, I guess.”

“Oh. Yeah, you can hold it.”

“Is this, um—is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Can you go back to that part again? We missed the scene.”

“Sure. Hey Miles?”

“What?”

“Can I—um, never mind.”

  
~Nov 15, 2019~

“Peter?...PETER?!”

“I’m right here, buddy! You’re safe, Miles. Look at me, I’m right here.”

“I just keep seeing him—“

“Shhh, I know. Here, move over...I’m coming up. Damnit, could they make these bunk beds _any_ smaller? Make some room.”

“I can’t stop seeing it happen...Spider-Man, he’s right there and then Kingpin—“

“I’ve got you. Just take a deep breath, there you go. Turn over so I can rub your back. How’s that?”

“Okay.”

“Just listen to my voice. I’m right here, okay? I’m gonna stay and take care of you. You’re safe with me. How does that feel?”

“Feels good.”

“Yeah, see? I’ve got you. Here, come a little bit closer. That’s better, right? Just close your eyes now and try to get some rest. I’ll stay with you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I love you, and I’m right here.”

“Love you.”

~March 27, 2020~

“Slow patrol night. Should we turn in?”

“It’s this or homework...and I don’t feel like doing homework.”

“Let’s sit.”

“Nice night out, pretty quiet out here. Good spot to sit and think.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking, actually.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you, Miles. But uh...I just haven’t figured out how to say it yet.”

“Is it about the money thing I said earlier? ‘Cause I didn’t mean—“

“No, that? I don’t care about that. I’ve just been thinking about us. Like about me and you.”

“Oh, like Spider-Man stuff.”

“I mean, we’ve been friends for a while now, right? And you know I love you more than anyone—“

“You know like two people, dude. And I’m one of them.”

“Can you go like 2 seconds without making a smartass remark?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine. We should get going, it’s late.”

~June 30th, 2020~

“Last time I rode the ferry I was like ten years old, with my dad.”

“This is one of those fancy dinner boats. I’ll take you sometime.”

“I’ll probably be the one to take _you_. I’ve been getting more checks from my comic deal—I don’t see you pulling in any money these days.”

“Yeah, well...I’m working on it. Do you wanna sit? I saw some tables over on the other side of the deck.”

“Nah, let’s go stand by the railing. I wanna look out over the water.”

“Miles...”

“Hey c’mon, Peter! Come look at this view!”

“You sound like a tourist.”

“Just stand next to me so we can get a picture. Take your mask off. Smile!”

“Okay, send me that one. But hey, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Yeah? What’s up, P?”

“I...well, I...”

“Oh, look at that huge boat out there. Like a party boat or something. Sorry, were you saying something? My bad.”

“It can wait.”

“Is there something on my face or something?”

“What? No, I just—“

“Oh, you were looking at me funny.”

“Just feeling a little seasick, I guess. Can we sit down?”

“Yeah, let’s bring some chairs over.”

“You ever think about us, Miles?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, like...what we are to each other.”

“You mean like I’m the hero and you’re the sidekick?”

“Ha, funny. No, I mean like...if we could ever—I dunno, never mind.”

“You think too much, man.”


	30. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For pixiegerms, because I promised this chapter last night and then promptly fell asleep while editing it. And for everyone else still reading or just getting started. 💋

Three months had passed since that day Miles’ dad told him to leave, that he needed time to think. Was three months enough time to decide whether he could accept having a gay son? Miles thought so, but his dad didn’t.

He refused to be the initiator. If his dad wanted him home, he would have to be the first to set things right. Miles was stubborn like that—not unlike Peter, really. But his dad _did_ reach out and take the first step; he called Miles on a Sunday to invite him home for dinner. He was at Peter’s place when he got the call.

“Huh, that was my dad...”

“Oh, he remembered he has a son,” Peter scoffed.

“I’m gonna tell him about us...gotta get this off my chest and be done with it. It’s been three months.”

“You sure about that?” Peter raised an eyebrow, looking up from his comic book and setting it down on the nightstand.

“Or what? He’s gonna kick me out?” Miles sneered.

“I’m just saying,” Peter shrugged, “is this really the hill you wanna die on?”

Miles frowned indignantly, avoiding the question. “Anyway, he wants me home for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, that’s what he _wants_ , is it? And has he thought about what _you_ want? Like having a dad who isn’t ashamed of his son being gay, god forbid it’s an inconvenience to him?”

“I get it, Peter, but I have to do this for myself. We’ve been over this a million times.”

“Maybe we should call May,” Peter suggested. “She’s gotten us this far—maybe she can do the same talk she did with your mom?”

“It has to come from me. It’s the only way he’s gonna trust me.”

“I guess,” Peter shrugged indifferently. “Have you thought about what you’re gonna say? Why don’t you try it out on me?”

“Nah, that’s corny,” Miles groaned—but he had to admit, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Fine, but don’t laugh, or I’m gonna web you.” He took a web shooter off the nightstand, snapping it onto his wrist to show he meant business.

“Should I get into character? _Hey son, remember me? It’s your dad. I know it’s been 3 months since I kicked you out, but I want to make sure I come out of this looking like the hero, so you’re gonna have to come home before the neighbors start asking_ —“

Miles webbed Peter’s mouth shut.

“That’s better. Okay so anyway...” Even though he _knew_ it was only Peter sitting beside him, peeling at the sticky webbing over his mouth, Miles’ hands tingled with nervous energy. The tingling grew steadily stronger, as if his hands were pulsing with a dull hum. “Dad—“

Peter successfully freed himself of his trap. “I prefer ‘daddy’, actua—“ That earned him another web to the face.  
  
“ _Dad_ ,” he started again, “there’s someone I need to tell you about.”

The sensation in his hands was no longer a weak thrum, but a strong vibration that crackled as he flexed his fingers.

“Uh, buddy? What’s going on with your hands?” Peter wiped the mess of webbing onto his t-shirt.

Miles looked down at his hands, and they were glowing blue with little sparks dancing off the surface. “Oh what the—“ he stood up, shaking his hands as if they had caught fire and he was trying to quell the flames. They sizzled and crackled until suddenly, the sparks died down, leaving nothing but a few weak aftershocks flickering through his fingertips. “Did I just—“

“Bioelectricity...” Peter sat upright, frowning at Miles. “You know that’s really dangerous. I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna use that until we figured out—”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose! I uh, think when I get scared, it starts to spark—like when I wanna run away. It sort of happened when me and May had the Spider-Man talk with my parents.”

“Do you think it’s getting stronger?”

“I don’t know,” Miles shrugged. “I think so, but I still don’t know how to control it.”

“Well, maybe it’s about time we figure it out, kid.”

* * *

It was July, and the summer air was hot and thick as Miles stood on the stoop of his parents’ place. He’d seen his mom weekly—even slept at home a few times when his dad was working the overnight shift—but aside from the occasional text to check in on his grades or schoolwork, his dad was absent from the last three months of his life. It was as if someone had erased him from Miles’ world completely. Some days the guilt consumed him, even though his mom always reminded him: _it’s not your fault_.

It’s not that he wasn’t welcome there. No, only a few weeks after this had all started, his mom called and told Miles that his dad wanted him to come back home. He had called or texted Miles occassionally, even came into his room one evening to grill him about a call he’d gotten from Miles’ teacher about a late assignment—but he refused to acknowledge the one thing that was looming heavy over them for so long. And until he was willing and able to face it, nothing would change. They never talked anymore.

“Miles,” his mom kissed his forehead and pulled him into a suffocating hug. “Come on, get inside! I made pasteles.”

“Where’s dad?” he looked around the empty house, setting his bags down on the kitchen table. It smelled deliciously familiar, the aroma of his mom’s cooking drawing out deep feelings of nostalgia. Peter’s cooking had improved, but it didn’t hold up to his mom’s skills in the kitchen.

“Oh Miles,” Rio sighed. “He got called in to work, just before you got here—I told him he better not set foot outside of this house until after dinner. But there was a protest, for that kid who got shot by that cop in Bed-Stuy last month. A lot of rioting down that way tonight.” She looked apologetically at Miles, as if she pitied him. “He really wanted to be here.”

“Yeah...I get it. Budget cuts or whatever.”

“There’s just not enough help right now. He’s been putting in so much overtime.”

Things were easier between them as they ate and talked—almost like old times before everything had changed. Yet somehow, every time the topic of Spider-Man came up, things turned sour.

“I saw your article in the Sunday Times,” Rio smiled at him across the table, the pride in her son evident in her eyes. “I bought every copy at the newsstand.”

“What did it say?” Miles had never been one for keeping up with the media and their opinions on him. He learned that from Peter, who had learned that the hard way back in his dimension.

“You didn’t see it? They love your book!”

Miles shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I wrote it.” Sure, he and Peter had given some creative input, signed some papers, approved some storyboards—cashed some checks...but it wasn’t his to take credit for. He wished people would stop making a big deal about it—about all the things he got credit for that weren’t really _his_. He was finally starting to understand why Peter was so weird about May getting him signed on with the agency in the first place.

“I’m proud of you, mijo. You’re really going places. I know your papi is proud too.”

“That’s one way for him to show it,” Miles said under his breath. He was tired of his mom defending his dad’s actions, tired of feeling like he was driving a wedge in the family, tired of having to be the bigger person.

“I mean it, Miles. He told me he wants to introduce you to some of the guys down at the station one day. He wants to—“

“Me, or Spider-Man?” he asked bitterly.

They ate in strained silence, the tension in the air like an invisible wall between them.

“How is Peter doing?” The question felt so surreal, he almost thought he’d imagined it. He’d spent the last two and a half years pretending the man didn’t exist to the outside world, and now here they were, talking about him over dinner as easily as if his mom had just asked how school was going.

“Huh? Oh...” his thumb idly rubbed at his bare ring finger, having left his engagement band at home for the occasion, “he’s good. Just...”

“It must be so hard for him,” Rio said knowingly, looking a little uneasy. “I just hope he’s...that you’re...”

“I really love him mom. He’s good to me,” he meant it.

She gave him a weak smile across the table. “It’s hard for me, Miles. Please try to understand,” she set her fork down and looked him in the eyes. “I really like Peter, it’s just that—it’s uncomfortable for me right now. I know it’s not his fault. I can’t even imagine—he just lost 20 years of his life. But it’s going to take some time for me to see you with him, because of...well, you know.”

“The age thing, yeah...I know.”

He wished they could just stop talking about it—skip over it and move on. It wasn’t like he didn’t get it—he really did; Miles wasn’t blind to the fact that it wasn’t the life she’d hoped for her son. Regardless of what she believed about Peter’s real age, reality was hitting her that she was going to see her son with a 40 year old man.

He was just going to have to win her over, to make her see things his way. She could grow to love Peter, in time—that, he was sure of. His dad, on the other hand...

After dinner, Miles hugged his mom goodbye before climbing his way to the roof and slipping on his Spider-Man suit. He didn’t feel like going back to his dorm and kicking off the start of another school week just yet, and he wasn’t in the mood for the ‘I told you so’ that would inevitably course from Peter’s lips upon learning his dad never showed up for dinner.

He wasn’t sure what made him do it. The sun was nothing but a fading pink ember on the horizon when Miles swung his way to the rally where his dad was stationed.

* * *

He didn’t find his dad at the rally-turned-riot. Things had mostly died down and cleared out, save for the cops lining the streets and a few lingering peaceful protesters, but it was hard to see their faces in the faint glow of the moonlight.

What he _did_ find was patrol vehicle #960 stationed outside of the community center. He sat perched on the hood of the empty car, illuminated under the orange flicker of a streetlight. 

He thought about what he’d say when he saw him. Peter may have felt anger toward the man for his misgivings, but Miles only had pain, longing for the past—for things to return to some semblance of normalcy where he wasn’t a constant source of stress to his parents. He wasn’t going to let his dad off the hook, but he wasn’t here to start a fight either. They would have to figure this out one way or another.

 _‘Hey wifey, are u coming back tonight? I need u.’_ Miles smirked at his phone, cheeks burning pink at the text message that flashed across his screen.

Things were different between them, ever since that night on the ferry. When they first started dating, they went from friends to...well, something like more-sexual friends. They never really figured out how to be romantic with one another, how to slow down and give genuine affection and emotion freely. They’d never been good at feelings, anyway. It didn’t help that they’d spent their entirety of their relationship hiding it from the outside world.

But things felt different now. Miles wasn’t sure if it started because of Peter’s guilt over Jimmy, or because they were engaged—and because those happened on the same weekend, maybe it was a bit of each. But Peter was decidedly more affectionate, more romantic, more spontaneous over the last few months—and Miles thought he could get used to that.

_‘I have school in the morning.’_

_‘How about now?’_

Miles’ bit his lip, breath hitching in his throat as Peter’s picture appeared on his screen. It was a selfie of the man laying in bed, shirt off and an arm slung lazily behind his head to prop himself up on the pillows. His eyes were sultry, a seductive half-smirk on his lips. The photo ended just below the jut of his hip, and a hint of hair trailing below his navel indicated Peter was naked.

_‘Daaamn is all that for me?’_

_‘Depends if ur coming over’_

_‘Yeah man’_

_‘Ok I’ll save this for u’_

The next picture was Peter’s dick, hard with slick pink tip and a hand wrapped around the thick base. _Oh damn._

_‘Yes please’_

_‘Make sure u delete those. I think I just solicited myself to a minor’_

“Miles?”

“Dad...” he quickly shoved his phone in the hidden thigh pocket on his suit, ears turning hot.

“What are you doing here? I thought—“

He already knew he was going to be the bigger person—he’d played this moment in his head countless times, each with a different outcome. The only one that made any sense to him—that held any hope of reconciliation with his dad—was this one.

He jumped off the hood of his dad’s patrol vehicle and into the man’s arms.

At first he was met with reticent hesitation as he wrapped his arms around his dad. He’d already planned for this very scenario; in fact, he’d expected it. His dad was nothing if not predictable. But then, the man yielded to him wrapping his arms around Miles in a reassuring hug, and in that moment it felt like things would be okay, even if just for a little while.

“I’m sorry, son,” Jeff held onto Miles shoulders, pulling him back to get a better look at him. Miles thought back to the very first day his dad met Spider-Man, unaware that the kid inside the suit was his own son—the day he destroyed the Collider. Everything had come full circle.

He’d hugged Miles then, too. Since that day, they’d had a few run-ins with one another—dropping off criminals at the precinct or showing up to the same crime scene. Peter had never been present for those moments; it wasn’t until recently that Peter was seen regularly with Miles at all. He usually kept a low profile, preferring to let Miles take the lead when they were out patrolling or actually apprehending criminals.

“You look good, Miles,” Jeff pulled him in for another hug before straightening up and putting some space between them. “Oh uh, is that bad for your Spider-Man image? Sorry—“

“It’s okay, dad,” Miles smirked, even though his dad couldn’t see it under his mask.

“Miles, I never meant—“ he sighed, shaking his head as if the words weren’t coming easily, “I wanted you to come home, and I’m sorry. I’m not ashamed of who you are, son. I just want you to be honest with me, man to man.”

“I know, I just...” he took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. This was his chance. “Things are gonna be different, dad. No more secrets. There’s something I need you to know.”

“Another secret?” The street light was illuminating all the lines of worry etched into his dad’s face. He looked older than Miles had ever seen him.

“Something like that,” he took a step backward until he was pressed up against the patrol car, putting some distance between them. “The other Spider-Man...y’know, at the book signing. He wasn’t an actor. There’s another Spider-Man, and um...”

Why was this _so_ embarrassing? He thought back to all the talks his dad had given him over the years. The sex talk. The dating talk. The ‘ _are there any girls you like at school?_ ’ talk and the ensuing look of disappointment.

“I knew it! I’ve been telling the boys at the precinct for _months_ that I’ve seen another Spider-Man wearing the red suit—y’know, like the original. Nobody believed me...said I was seeing Spider-Man’s ghost.”

“He’s not a ghost, dad. We work together—he’s like me. And um, he’s also my...uh, my boyfriend.”  
  
“Oh, I uh _...oh,”_ his dad rubbed at his neck nervously, like he was afraid of saying he wrong thing. He looked Miles in the eyes, nodding his head slowly. “Boyfriend, o-okay. Boyfriend, yeah. Okay. Yeah.”

“Dad—are you...okay?”

Jeff blinked a few times, as if clearing the thoughts from his head. “Yeah, it’s okay son. We’re okay.”

* * *

“He knows.”

His heart felt lighter as he entered Peter’s apartment than it had when he’d left.

Peter was waiting for him at the door, handing Miles his ring before pulling him in for a tight hug, lifting the boy up to straddle his waist. “How much?” He trailed kisses down Miles’ cheek.

“I mean, he doesn’t know about this,” he slipped the ring on his finger before wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck, nuzzling into him.

“So uh, somewhere between knowing I exist and that we’re getting married in thirteen months, two weeks, and three days...got it,” he found Miles’ lips, kissing him just teasingly enough to elicit a sigh from the smaller boy wrapped around him. “But who’s counting?’

“I mean, there’s a lot of gray area in there, Peter.”

Miles allowed himself to be carried to the bedroom before being unceremoniously tossed to the bed. He cozied up under the covers and looked up at Peter from the pillow, eyes half lidded as sleep tempted him. He was exhausted, and with school just hours away, sleep sounded enticing—but so did whatever Peter was going to do to him.

“Okay, I’ll narrow it down,” Peter shrugged, dimming the lights before stripping off his shirt and joining Miles under the covers. “Somewhere between knowing I’m your boyfriend and that I’m about to pound you into this bed if you keep looking at me like that?”

“The hell? Not even close!” Miles’ cheeks flushed warm at the suggestion. “And I wasn’t looking at you like anything. I’m just tired.”

“Can we be tired, but with less clothes on?”

Miles nodded sleepily and slipped out of his pants and underwear beneath the covers. He would sleep well tonight, knowing what he’d accomplished today—there were no more secrets to hide behind. Well, he hadn’t reconciled the whole thing about Peter’s age with his dad, but that could wait for another day. He was right where he needed to be in Peter’s bed.

They lay facing each other beneath the covers, and Peter placed a gentle hand over Miles’ cheek, stroking it with his thumb. Miles could hardly keep his eyes open, lids fluttering shut of their own accord, when he felt Peter’s cock pressing against his.

“What the—“ he opened an eye, squinting in the dim light to steal a glance at Peter. “I’m trying to sleep over here and you’re—ohhh, that feels good.” He closed his eyes again, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling as Peter got him hard, skin sliding against skin. Miles was sleepy, but the feeling of their cocks rubbing together was enough to keep him awake a little longer. He found his hips rocking slowly against Peter’s, unable to stop himself from seeking out more contact.

“Shhh, get some sleep,” Peter whispered against his lips, just barely brushing them with his own. One of Peter’s big hands wrapped around their cocks, enveloping them in rough skin, warm and comfortingly familiar. “Maybe I can help you.”

“Mmm,” Miles nodded sleepily, eyes still closed and breathing softly against his partner’s lips as Peter jerked their cocks, slow and steady. He hummed with pleasure, noncommittally thrusting into Peter’s fist. He was either going to fall asleep, or come all over Peter’s hand.

“How does it feel?” Peter breathed into his ear, a low and soothing murmur sending him close to the edge of sleep or release—he wasn’t sure which one, but he’d take either in that moment.

“Mmm, feels nice,” Miles sighed. He was delirious with pleasure at the torturously-slow place. He sighed and gasped softly, resisting sleep just so he could feel Peter’s hand on him a little longer.

“Tell me what I’m doing to you,” Peter’s voice hitched with desire. _So much for sleeping_.

“You’re, um...” even when he was tired, he was shy enough that the words gave him pause, “you’re stroking our dicks.” He bit his lip, feeling Peter pick up the pace with his spit-slick hand, “rubbing them together. Getting me really hard, too.”

“Yeah, I want you to come with me,” he rasped against Miles’ lips as both Spider-Men rocked their hips together, fucking Peter’s hand. “I wanna feel you coming on my dick.” They found a sort of rhythm, and then abandoned it in favor of Peter wrapping two hands around them and frantically jerking their cocks until Miles was crying out, pleading for release.

He could tell Peter was close, the way the man’s body was shuddering beside him. He was close too, gripping Peter’s hip and digging his fingers in deep as he let the feeling take over, giving himself to it completely. He cried out—moaned against Peter’s lips and spilled all over his hand, gasping and trembling in his grip.

Even then, Peter didn’t stop—not until he milked every last drop from Miles, until Peter was crying out too, releasing into his hand until their cocks were slick with both of their cum. Only then did he finally stop, and Miles half-opened his eyes to take in the sight of him.

“Good boy, Miles,” he touched their foreheads together. It was quiet, save for their breathing and the thrum of the city street outside their window. Peter brought two fingers to Miles’ lips, rubbing them with their shared cum. “Taste it.”

He eagerly obliged, tongue flicking out to lick Peter’s cum-soaked fingers. It tasted salty and familiar, and Miles hummed contentedly at the intimate gesture. When Peter’s tongue joined his to taste themselves on his fingers, Miles felt dizzy with satisfaction. They lapped at Peter’s fingers and at each other, until Peter slid them into Miles’ mouth; he sucked them down to the knuckles, groaning deeply. Peter removed his fingers only to get them slick with more cum before slipping them between his own lips, sucking fervently as he looked at Miles through half-lidded eyes.

“Wow,” Miles gasped. He didn’t have the words to say just how beautiful Peter looked in that moment, but he would try. “Beautiful.” It wasn’t enough, but it would have to be, because Miles felt his eyes fluttering shut once more, sleep overcoming him.

“Who, me?” Peter turned away to switch the light off before settling in to pull the blanket tight around them, wrapping an arm protectively around Miles.

“Mmm,” Miles nodded.

“Am I? You’ve never said it before.”

What he wanted to say was that Peter was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on. That the only thing more perfect than his beautifully-imperfect face was his heart, how beautiful it felt to be loved by him. He wanted Peter to know, if only he could find the words to say it.

Instead, he fell asleep in Peter’s arms, breathing softly against his neck. Maybe he would tell him tomorrow.


	31. Bonus Chapter: Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been writing these little flashbacks for my own personal gratification, and I thought you guys might want to see them too. Similar to the ones in Chapter 26, these are just snippets of conversations looking back at when they first met. They don’t really fit anywhere else in the story, so I’m including them as a bonus chapter. I may do more of these when the mood strikes, but for now I hope you like this glimpse into the beginning of their friendship.

~December 20, 2018: 7:00 AM, Hudson Valley Explorer Bus~

“So what do we do when we get to this Alchemax place anyway? You got a plan?”

“ _We’re_ not doing anything. And _yes_ I have a plan, and it involves a lot of advanced technical—y’know what? We’re not talking about this right now. I just spent last night getting ripped out of my dimension and beat up by a twelve-year-old, and you think I wanna talk _plans_? God, read the room, Miles. This is prime nap time, kid.”

“I’m fourteen! And I just thought—“

“Less thinking, more sleeping. Here, lay on my shoulder. We’ll have you sleeping in no time.”

“I’m sorry, okay? About last night.”

“Shhh...your head, my shoulder. Less talking, more napping. Got it, kid?”

“Uhh...”

“See? You’re catching on. Told you I was gonna be a good teacher.”

“You didn’t teach me anything yet.”

“Have you even been listening? You teenagers think you know every—”

“Shhh...”

“There, you’ve got the hang of it. You can’t fight crime without a full night’s rest. I’ve gotta say, I could get used to this, Miles. You’re not so bad when you’re not talking so much. Maybe we’re not that different from one another. You’re kinda like me, but smaller and cuter—questionable fashion sense, but I can work with that.”

“Huh? You still talking? Go to sleep, man...”

“Sweet dreams, kid.”

  
~Dec 21, 2018: 6:15 PM, Miles’ Dorm~

“I’m sorry.”

“Peter...will I ever see you again?”

“I...I don’t know, Miles.”

“I wish you could stay.”

“If things were different...if we’d met under different circumstances, then maybe we’d—“

“It’s okay, you’ve gotta go home. I know that, I just...”

“I’ll always remember you, Miles. I’ll always—well, just promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Be careful out there. If anything happened to you, I—just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

“You should go.”

“I’ll miss you, kid.”

“Hey, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“When will I know I’m ready?”

“You won’t. It’s a leap of faith. That’s all it is, Miles. A leap of faith.”

  
~December 21, 2018~

“Peter! What the hell, man! What are you—Peter, you didn’t make it _home_.”

“No, Miles. I didn’t make it back in time.”

“But that’s not—does that mean...you’re gonna die?” 

“I don’t—hey buddy, don’t cry. We’ll figure this out, okay? First things first, we need to make sure everyone outside is safe. We need the cops to pick up Fisk, and we need to get out of here. Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I think so. But Peter, I—“

“It’s okay, Miles. Don’t worry about me, we need to get you out of here.”

“But what _happened_? Why didn’t you—“

“I couldn’t leave you, Miles. I needed to know the job was done. I needed to know you were safe.”

“I had it covered, Peter! Are you crazy?! Do you realize what this means?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t wanna lose you, Peter!”

“You almost did, if I went through that portal.”

“But now you’re...gonna die, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know, Miles. Listen to me, I’m so proud of you, kid. You did it—it was all you. It’s over now. You saved everyone.”

“But not you...”

“Take my hand, Miles. I’m getting you out of here. This wall is about to collapse.”

“I can do it—I’ll swing out.”

“No, just... _please_ —take my hand.”

“Okay, yeah. Okay.”

  
~December 22nd, 2018: 2AM~

“You’ve gotta go home, Miles. Your parents are looking for you. May is gonna let me crash here for a little while. I’m fine, really.”

“I’m not leaving you. I’m scared, Peter. I don’t know what’s gonna happen to you, and I don’t want you to be alone if you—“

“I haven’t glitched again.”

“You haven’t?”

“No, not since before everything happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, in case I was wrong.”

“So..what does that mean, anyway? That you might not... _die_?”

“I dunno, it’s too soon to say—it’s only been a few hours. I’m still feeling some aftershocks. Hey, c’mere buddy. I know, I’m...I’m scared, too. Just um, stay with me, okay? Let’s try and get some sleep. Lay next to me. Then if anything happens, you’ll know.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m right here, can you feel me?”

“Yeah, but Peter I—“

“If you can feel me then I’m still here. I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“ _Please_...don’t go.”

  
~December 29th, 2018~

“So what does it mean?”

“I-I don’t know. I mean, it’s been a whole week since it happened and I—“

“You haven’t glitched again?”

“No, nothing. I don’t understand.”

“Maybe your dimension got destroyed? And now you belong here?”

“Who knows?”

“Or maybe when the Collider was destroyed, your atoms and stuff recalibrated this dimension?”

“Maybe.”

“This is like, the greatest thing ever Peter—don’t you understand?!”

“Miles...”

“If you’re not gonna die, then—then we can be a real _team_. You can teach me stuff, and we can hang out together all the time, and—“

“I know it’s hard not to get excited right now, but...Miles, I’m not sure if we’re in the clear yet. I mean, there’s just so much we don’t know yet. You’re getting way ahead of things here.”

“Oh...”

“Hey, I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Hey, it’s okay...come here. See? I’ve got you. Good boy. Does it help when I hold you like this?”

“Yeah.”

“Here, put your head on my chest. Is that more comfortable?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good, let’s just...let’s give it a few more weeks and see how things go. And if I’m still here, then we can talk about training together and stuff.”

“I just want you to stay.”

“Me too. God, I love you, Miles.”

“Huh?”

“I said ‘I’d love to’...you know, I’d love to stay.”

“Oh.”

  
~February 5, 2019~

“Do you think we’re spending too much time together?”

“Huh? Why would you even say that, man?”

“I dunno, Miles. I mean, don’t you have other friends or something?

“You trying to get rid of me?”

“What? No, of course not. I just thought, because I’m...and you’re...you know—“

“Yeah, I’m not following.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? People are gonna think it’s weird that you’re always hanging out with a grown man.

“I dunno, guess I never thought about it like that.”

“Yeah, just forget I said anything.”

“Do _you_ think we’re spending too much time together?”

“I don’t know. I’d be lonely if you didn’t want me around.”

“Maybe you need a girlfriend.”

“What about you? Are you into any girls yet?”

“Uh, not really. Guess I haven’t really thought about it.”

“You’ve never kissed a girl before?”

“Nah chill, Peter. And stop smiling—it’s not funny.”

“Never said it was.”

“Then don’t look so happy about it. I could get a girlfriend if I wanted to!”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Maybe I will!”

“Fine.”

“Whatever.”

“Okay then.”

“I uh...I don’t really want a girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I like what we have going on, and I don’t wanna change that, y’know?”

“What do you mean? Like, me and you?”

“Yeah man, like Spider-Man stuff. All the training we’ve been doing. I’ve got a lot to learn, and I—“

“Right, it’s gonna take a lot of dedication, Miles. We’ve gotta stay focused. We can’t afford any distractions.”

“Why you still smiling, man?”

“I’m just...I’m glad we’re on the same page, that’s all.”

~April 29, 2019: Empire State Building~

“You alright, kid? You don’t look so hot—and trust me, coming from me? That’s saying something. I’ve been a lot worse off than you.”

“I don’t feel so good.”

“You know, I felt the same way the first time I jumped off the Empire State Building.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I threw up on myself, jumped off—think I sorta blacked out for a while there—but I stuck myself to a lamp post just before I splattered on the ground. Peed in my suit a little. Overall? I’d say that’s a win.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Trust me, kid. You’ll be fine. And you’ve got me, right? I never had an older, sexier Spider-Man mentor showing me the ropes, looking cooler doing it. I won’t let anything happen to you, Miles. Spider promise.”

“Spider promise? Is that a thing?”

“Nah, I just made it up. Anyway, this is exactly the sort of thing that’s going to make you a better Spider-Man. You have to master your mind, conquer your fears. You wanna learn how to control your powers? This is how you do it.”

“I don’t see how—“

“Listen, I’ve got you, okay? Come here. We’re just gonna hold on to each other.”

“Um...”

“Wrap your arms around me like this. See? I’m not gonna let you go. Just hold me as tight as you can. Woah, too tight! You’re stronger than you look...squeezing the life outta me. There, we’ll just...how does that feel?”

“Pretty good.”

“I’ve got you. I know you can do it, Miles. Just focus on me, don’t think about the drop. Look at me—are you ready?”

“Peter, I think—“

“That’s the problem! You’re thinking too much. Look into my eyes and just squeeze me tight. It’s just me and you, kid. Don’t look down, look at me.”

“Okay.”

“I love you too much to let anything happen to you, got it? You trust me, right?”

“I think so.”

“Web shooters ready, let’s go.”

“Here goes nothin’, I guess.”

  
~July 9, 2019: 1:30 AM, May’s House~

“What the—hey uh, buddy?”

“Mmm?”

“You awake right now? You’re kind of, um...”

“What? _Oh!_ ”

“Yeah, you’re kind of sticking to me.”

“Shit, sorry Peter. I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay, it happens. Just try to relax, okay?”

“I-I’m trying!”

“Just, I don’t know...think about something else. What calms you down when you’re freaked out?”

“I don’t know, I guess you do?”

“I appreciate the sentiment, kid, but that doesn’t exactly help with the current situation. What else?”

“I don’t know, I can’t think straight!”

“Okay, let me try something. Come here.”

“I’m literally pressed against your body—I can’t come any closer.”

“Right, sorry. Uh...does it help if I rub your back like this?”

“Mmm, I think so. I’m not sure.”

“Okay, just lay still. Not so stiff, try and relax.”

“I’m trying, I just—“

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re too tense—I’m gonna massage your shoulders. There we go.”

“That feels pretty nice. Can you do my back? I think it’s working.”

“Yeah, let me just...let me get your shirt out of the way. You’re all sweaty.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s gonna take some time to control the sticking. It’s totally normal. Does that feel good, Miles?”

“Yeah, my legs are un-sticking.”

“Put your head on my chest.”

“What? I don’t think—“

“Just trust me. There you go. Listen to my heartbeat. Does that make you feel calmer?”

“It’s going really fast.”

“Oh, uh...yeah, just focus on my breathing. That better?”

“Yeah, I think so. Huh, you smell good.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. What do I smell like?”

“I dunno, like you. Kinda sweaty.”

“That smells good to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, don’t get too cozy there, bud. We’re unstuck now.”

“Oh, uh...thanks, Peter. Sorry for um, whatever that was.”

“Don’t mention it, Miles. I-I think maybe you’d better sleep on the couch next time, just in case.”


	32. Bonus Chapter: More Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s no surprise by now that I like writing these flashbacks. These fall specifically in the 4 months or so between the night on the ferry when Peter started having sexual feelings for Miles, and Chapter 1 when Miles started having those feelings too.

~July 12, 2020: 9 PM~

“Thanks for walking me home.”

“Should I kiss you goodnight?”

“You play too much. Shut up, man.”

“I know, I just...I wanna tell you something, Miles.”

“Can it wait? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

“Come here. I’ll keep you warm...better? Here, take my jacket, too. You can keep it. Actually, scratch that. It looks better on me—just borrow it. I’m gonna need that back.”

“It only looks better on you ‘cause it’s too big for me.”

“Y’know, maybe it’s not the jacket that’s too big...maybe you’re just too small.”

“I’m big enough.”

“Yeah? I bet you are.”

“I’ve gotta go, man. My mom’s gonna come out here looking. I already texted her I was outside.” 

“Wait! I just...I wanna tell you something.”

“I’m listening.”

“I love you, Miles.”

“Yeah, I know that already.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Well, that’s what you said.”

“No, I mean—what I’m trying to say is...I want you to know, I love you as...more than a friend.”

“Yeah, cool. We’re like family now. That’s whassup, man.”

“Yeah...family. I um—“

“I gotta run. Call me, okay?”

“Yeah...goodnight Miles.” 

~August 1st, 2020: 7 PM, May’s House~ 

“You ready for patrol, Miles? I wanna stop at that new hot dog stand on the way.”

“Shit, I forgot my suit. We’ll have to drop by my dorm first.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got a spare you can borrow.”

“I dunno, man. I don’t think the world is ready for two of you. I can barely handle just one.”

“You’re the _only_ one who can handle me. Here, suit up. You’ll have to grab a mask out of the laundry room.”

“How do I look?”

“Like I wanna eat you up.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“I’m gonna go get the mask.”

“Yeah.”

~August 16, 2020: 4 PM, May’s House~

  
“Can I use your computer? I need to email my Spanish teacher.”

“Yeah, whatever. Should I pause the movie?”

“Just for a minute, won’t be long. Hey Peter...do you want me to close this other tab?”

“What is it?”

“Uhhh...black teen interracial—“

“Don’t open that! Look out, let me just...”

“My bad. I didn’t open it, I just...wasn’t sure if you needed it, that’s all.”

“ _No_ , I don’t need it. I don’t know how that got there. Just...go wait over there.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay, just...do your email and don’t open anything else. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

~September 5, 2020: 12 AM, Miles’ Dorm~

“Peter, you asleep?”

“Not really. Ganke’s bed is kind of crusty, and uh...full disclosure, this Wonder Woman body pillow is starting to freak me out. It smells like...actually, nevermind. You don’t wanna know.”

“Can you come up and lay with me? I can’t sleep.”

“I mean...you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? We always used to.”

“That was before, uh...well, you’re a lot older now, Miles. Don’t you think you’re getting a little big for that?”

“I just thought—“

“I uh...okay, I’m coming up. They really don’t make these bunk beds like they used to, sheesh. There’s no room up here. You’re gonna have to lay on top of me if you keep getting any bigger.”

“Can you rub my back, like you used to?”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Huh?”

“So I can do your back. It’ll be more comfortable.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.”

“How’s that?”

“Mmm...”

“You feel really tense, Miles.”

“I was um, thinking about my Uncle Aaron—it’s his birthday tomorrow. I can’t believe it’s been almost two years since—well, I don’t really wanna talk about it, but...it’s just really hard for me.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh uh, I said ‘ _I know, buddy_ ’.”

“Oh.”

“Just relax. I wanna make you feel better. Let me take care of you, okay?”

“You don’t have to, Peter.”

“I know, Miles. I want to. Do you like this?”

“Ah! Yeah, that feels good.”

“Shit, Miles. Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“Nothing, just...try and get some sleep, okay? Close your eyes, and I’ll rub your back. There you go.”

“Hey Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for—“

“Don’t mention it, bud. Really, I mean...if you didn’t need me, what use would I be to anyone? I just turned 40. I’ve been doing this for what, 24 years? You think my joints can take much more of this superhero gig? No, this...this is everything to me, Miles. Just me and you, okay? Get some sleep now...don’t worry about anything.”

“Will you stay?”

“If you want me.”

“I do want you, Peter.”

“I want you too, Miles.”

~September 27, 2020~

“When I throw an attack, try to sidestep me. Got it? Let’s try again.”

“I feel like I’m getting worse every time.”

“You’re doing great. Remember, I’m gonna aim for the face and I’m not gonna tell you if it’s a punch or a web. You have to learn to anticipate what I’m gonna throw at you, got it?

“I guess so.”

“Let’s start slow. I’m just gonna throw punches, and we’ll add the web when you’re ready.”

“Aight, lay it on me.”

“See? You’ve already got it! This is too easy, kid. You ready for more?”

“Yeah, shoot on my face.”

“Um...”

“Yeah, that came out wrong. Stop laughing—you’re making it weird, Peter. Come on, just web me in the face, okay? I’m ready.”

“That’s kinda hot.”

“Shut up, I’m gonna try and block you, _jackass_. Stop trying to mess me up.”

“I’d like to mess you up...”

“Stop laughing! It’s not even funny.”

“I mean, it’s a little bit—“

_TWHIP_

~October 18, 2020: 10 PM, May’s House~

“Uh, Peter?”

“Shit, Miles...you’re hurt.”

“Yeah, I think one of those masked guys got me before you chased him off. I wasn’t fast enough, I—“

“It’s okay, Miles. You’re still learning, you’re just—come on, we need to get you up to the roof. Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, grab on to me. Wrap your arms around my neck.”

“You didn’t have to carry me up. I can climb.”

“Hang on, I’m trying to think. Okay, show me where— _ah_ , that’s a lot of blood. I’m thinking, I’m thinking. Okay, where’s it coming from?”

“Inside my thigh. Sliced me when I was swinging over him.”

“Slicing is good, Miles. We can work with slicing. That should heal up in, uh...let’s see, about an hour. I need to look at it, make sure there’s nothing in there. Can you get undressed for me?”

“Right _here_?”

“Relax, nobody’s gonna see you or anything up here.”

“You’re gonna see me.”

“Does that...is that...is that a problem? You’re wearing underwear, right?”

“Yeah, man. Who the hell goes freeballing in spandex?”

“ _I_ do, and I’ve been doing it since before you were born, kid. Why do you think the suit has a reinforced panel—“

“I don’t wanna know, man. Just help me out, here.”

“Okay, take this off and sit back against the wall. Still got that first aid kit in your backpack?”

“Yeah, can you hurry up? It’s really cold out here.”

“Think about that next time you’re getting sliced apart. What? Don’t give me that look. I’m just trying to lighten the m—“

“AH! Shit, what is that?”

“I’m just cleaning it. Does that hurt?”

“Yeah, you _think_?!”

“Sorry, uh...just try and focus on something else.”

“I can’t! It’s so cold out here I can’t think straight.”

“Okay, let me think. I’m gonna give you something else to focus on. What if I kissed you?”

“Stop playin’, man.”

“Okay. What if I hold your hand, would that help?”

“I-I think so.”

“Yeah? Alright, just um...focus on that while we put some pressure on your leg. In a few minutes it should start to close up. Can you hold this gauze and press down?”

“Yeah...fuck, that kinda hurts.”

“I know, I know. You’ve gotta focus on me and stop looking at it. Come closer, I’ll warm you up. Look at me, Miles.”

“It’s not helping.”

“Okay, I read about something that might help. I’m trying to remember...oh! Neuro-something-or-other. Basically, when you feel pain, you can do something that feels good on the opposite side of your body. It tricks your brain into ignoring the pain side.”

“Like neuroplasticty?”

“I dunno, but I’m gonna do it to you. Are you pressing on your leg?”

“Yeah, what are you gonna— _oh_.”

“Just gonna rub your leg like this. Does that feel good? Open your legs a little.”

“I-I dunno if it’s working...maybe we should stop.”

“It’s okay, just focus on the side that feels good. Look at me—tell me what I’m doing to you.”

“Um...you’re uh, touching me with your hands...rubbing me.”

“Good. Where am I touching you?”

“M-my...my leg.”

“Yeah, stay focused. How does it feel?”

“It...it feels good.”

“Do you like it when I touch you?”

“Peter, I think the bleeding stopped.”

“Huh? Oh. Um, thats looking pretty good, Miles. I think it closed up.”

“Yeah, um...you can stop touching my leg now...if you want. I think I’m okay.”

“What? Oh...yeah. Suit up and we’ll get you home.”

  
~November 7, 2020: 1 AM, Miles’ Dorm~

“Mmm...shit, Miles. Ah fuck—“

“Uh, Peter? You awake down there?”

“Huh? Oh, I uh...I was having a bad dream.”

“You want me to come down?”

“What? No! Stay up there, I’m fine.”

“You sure, man? You sound outta breath or something. You need some water?”

“No! I said I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay, sorry. Um, goodnight, Peter.”

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there anything else you guys have been waiting to see, aside from Miles resolving his daddy issues? (That’s coming in Chapter 28) I want everyone to walk away satisfied as I wrap this up. Thank you to everyone still reading. Without all the encouragement, I would have never made it this far. 💖
> 
> An idea courtesy of micdropbam, if you’ll indulge me for a moment. If I did a bonus chapter of Peter POV scenes, which ones would you like me to include?


End file.
